


Till The Gravity's Too Much

by IGuessIWriteStuffNow



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: AU where they meet like 6 months before the strike, Accepting their feelings, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Canon Era, Communication, Davey "I want to marry him but i don't /like/ him" Jacobs, Dumb boys being dumb, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Insecurity, Jack Being Sappy, Jack Draws Davey, Jack Makes Marriage Jokes and Davey is Flustered, Jacobs Sibling Bonding, Jealousy, Kinda, M/M, Pining, Pre-Canon, Sarah is a Beautiful Clever Gay Who Has No Time For This, Sort Of, at a gay bar, damn bitch im out here writing Communication the Fic, davey finds jack really attractive, hey is that?? the plot of newsies on the horizon??, i guess, i love sarah jacobs, like he's fine looking davey but go off i guess, like that was a surprise, strangers to one-night-stand to friends to fwb to lovers?, tfw you start to actually like your fwb, weve moved on from major denial to minor pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-06-17 00:51:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15449682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IGuessIWriteStuffNow/pseuds/IGuessIWriteStuffNow
Summary: David Jacobs kissed a boy for the first time at age sixteen.Falling in love took a bit longer.





	1. Chapter 1

David Jacobs kissed a boy for the first time at age sixteen.

Well, not that he’d ever kissed a girl before. That prospect had never really interested him, so he’d never given any of it much thought until, two weeks prior, he’d stopped in the middle of washing dishes with the undeniable truth in his head: he really, _really_ liked boys. Exclusively. He wouldn’t lie, he’d panicked a bit about that, but once the nerves had subsided he’d felt… alright. Still a bit nervous, sure, but not ashamed. It was just new facts, new information. He could handle that.

The realization had come hand in hand with a sense of urgency and the desire to do _something_ with this new information. So, he did a bit of research, as difficult as it was to procure such information, and managed to find the names of a few places that catered to people like him. They were nestled into the corners of the cities, out of the way of normal bars and clubs, and doused in secrecy. Davey, who had never been one to lie and hide things from his family, found the idea of one as terrifying as it was intriguing. It didn’t take long for the curiosity to win out.

The bar air was heavy with smoke and the polluting smell of sweat and alcohol. The crowd was a sea of bodies, mostly men, mostly between five and fifteen years older than he. Between his youth, sobriety, and reservedness, Davey was glaringly out of place. He’d be far better off watching the chaos than joining in it, surely, so he took his place up against the wall and observed the spectacle before him.

The crowd moved in the dim light like a wild creature trapped in the small room. It was intoxicating, the scene, between the lights and the laughter and the smoke that filtered in with his breath. It was unlike anything Davey had ever witnessed before. He was scared, or maybe amazed, or maybe intrigued or just _all_. The heat seemed to weigh down the air around him, trap him in place, and keep his eyes magnetically pulled towards the crowd. Maybe, he thought in that moment, maybe he’d never look away.

“Ain’t you a bit young to be in a place like this?” 

A voice from behind broke him out of his stupor. He turned and, in the passing lights, he could just make out the facial features of the young man who’d spoken to him. He was attractive, all dark eyes and smiling lips, and fairly young himself. While likely no more than a year older than Davey, he was less out of place, grinning calmly and leaning against a wall. The expression, the pose he struck, even his voice was so languid. It all served as a stark contrast to Davey’s rigidness.

Once his mind was in order, Davey countered, “Aren’t you?” 

The lazy grin spread over the young man’s face gave way for a quick laugh and a shake of the head. “Difference is, I know what I’m doing here. No offense, but you-” He poked his finger into Davey’s chest. Davey stepped back. “-clearly don’t. You look half glued to that wall.”

“I’m not,” he pointed out, uselessly. He wasn’t good at talking to new people in general and standing in a hot, crowded bar speaking with a pretty young man whose sexual inclinations likely leaned the same way as his own was really not helping.

“I can see that.” He held out a hand for Davey to shake. “Name’s Jack.” 

“Davey.”

“Nice to meet ya, Dave.” His handshake was firm and his eyes never left Davey’s as he spoke, creating an odd sort of intimacy that warmed Davey’s chest. “You stand out just waiting there. I’ll buy you a drink.”

“I don’t take charity.” It was nothing more than a default answer, given whenever he was offered anything of monetary value. Despite being fairly clueless in this area, he did understand the connotation of Jack’s words. Much like the bar itself, it made him feel hot and dizzy and nervous and very, very intrigued. But he couldn’t bring himself to address the meaning behind the sentence.

Jack grinned, amused, and looked Davey up and down once, slowly. “Tell me, Dave, you got any clue what you’re doing here?”

“I have a better idea than you think.”

“Then come with me.” His voice was enticing, even though Davey could barely hear it over the clamor. The heat and the noise washed over Davey, just as it had when he first entered, all out of focus. But there, in the center, was Jack, so close that Davey could see the patches of dirt on his face. “I’ll even let you pay me back for the drink, one day.”

When he winked and held out his hand, Davey knew he’d be a fool not to take it.

Davey ordered blindly, parroting what Jack had asked for a moment before. The bartender nodded and, faster than he thought a drink could be made, Davey was handed a clear glass filled caramel-colored alcohol. It occurred to him, looking down at the chips of ice floating at the surface of the liquid, that he’d never actually had any alcohol, save for wine on Shabbat and holidays. 

“Promise I didn’t do anything to it,” Jack said, startling Davey again.

“What?”

Jack took a sip from his glass. Davey hadn’t even seen the bartender hand it to him. “You’re staring at your drink. I didn’t even touch it before it was given to you, you saw, and you was watching the bartender. But, I guess it ain’t bad to be cautious around here. Gotta be careful with some of these men; they really are just trying to get you drunk. And you ain’t exactly fit to take care of yourself. Consider it lucky I picked you up,” he teased, stirring his drink with one finger.

Jack’s smile was somewhat contagious, making Davey feel as if the two of them were in on a joke or a secret no one else in the world was privy to. Even if that joke was partially at Davey’s expense. The corners of his mouth quirked up without his intention. “Are you?” he asked.

“Am I what?”

“Trying to get me drunk.” He couldn’t blame his small spark of boldness on alcohol- he still hadn’t touched his drink. Maybe he could blame it on Jack.

Jack smiled at that. “Nah, I ain’t here to take advantage of you or nothing. I just want you to like me.”

_I already do_ , Davey wanted to say. He and Jack were almost definitely flirting, so it wouldn’t be entirely off the mark. But, no, that would probably be too sincere, so he tried something else: “So you won’t buy me my next drink?”

“Your next drink ain’t coming for another year, at the pace you’re going.” He gestured to Davey’s full glass. “But, honestly, I ain’t. And I hope you won’t buy another yourself, cause I really don’t think you ought to be drunk on your first time here.”

“I am capable of taking care of myself,” he defended. He considered himself somewhat of an independent; aside from his family, he didn’t actively try to talk to others and, in turn, many people disliked him for it. Which led to a need for independence, especially in school. And yet, with Jack in front of him, there was a desire to open up, to not be so alone.

“Sure, Dave.”

In a small act of defiance against Jack’s gentle condescension, Davey downed half his glass in one sip. The alcohol burned his throat and left a bitter taste on his tongue, but Jack was grinning- really grinning- and that made it worth it.

“Not bad.” 

Davey returned his smile, almost too proud of proving Jack wrong, even on something so small. He brought the cool glass to his lips again, taking shorter, smaller sips. They were quiet for a minute but, between the lights and the music and studying every aspect of Jack’s face that Davey could perceive, there was no lack of entertainment. And there was plenty to study. Jack was gorgeous, in a roguish sort of way that made him think that Jack could have ten young men like Davey in one night and none would complain for lack of affection. With the way Jack had smiled at him, Davey surely wasn’t about to protest. 

Then Jack turned to stare him down, and it took all Davey had to not immediately look away. 

As Jack furrowed his eyebrows, the gaze grew softer, and Davey let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “So, really,” Jack started. “You gonna tell me what the hell you’re doing here?”

“What is anyone doing here?” Answering honestly would be too much. Despite the location, despite the caresses of hands and mouths visible just out of the corner of his eye, despite the way Jack had smiled when he bought Davey a drink, he wasn’t prepared to acknowledge why.

The entirety of the bar was shifted an inch from reality, devoid of fear or consequence, and Davey would not say the words that would ground it in life.

“But you ain’t like the people here,” Jack countered. “You see yourself? You dress like you just walked outta school and drink like you’re trying to down medicine. I half-thought you’d walked into the wrong building and lost the way out.”

Davey couldn’t help his blush or the way his fingernails dug into the fabric of his pants. He hadn’t come to be insulted. “You don’t exactly fit in, either-” If Davey had seen him on the street, he never would’ve expected him to show up at a place like this. Jack was young, like Davey, and rough in all the ways that distanced him in looks from Davey and the other kids he’d seen pushed around and called ‘queer’. “I’m sure you were also a bit lost your first time here.”

“Not like you.”

This wasn’t good. He wanted to like Jack, he did, but now his stomach was turning. Davey had far too much experience with words thrown around about his clothes and his speech and how he was _different_ and he didn’t want it _here_.

He stood and took a step back. “I’m going.”

“Dave.” He was half turned away when he felt Jack’s hand on his arm. “Hey, Davey, don’t go. There ain’t no need to get worked up about it.” Davey didn’t look back but didn’t pull away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult ya. I was just curious, is all.”

“I’m here,” Davey started, slowly looking back at him. “I’m here because I figured out that I was… like the people here. And I wanted to know more. To meet someone like me. To have someone make sense of it all.” It was so honest. It was a degree of openness he’d never shared with anyone, save for his sister, before, and a specific thought he’d never worked up the courage to share even with her. But this was what he wanted. Someone to talk to, even if his cheeks were still flushed with embarrassment from that someone’s words.

Jack was quiet for a moment, then two, spending those moments sizing Davey up, once again. With the way he stared for a couple of long seconds at Davey’s eyes, he seemed to have reached a new conclusion. Finally, he leaned back and grinned. “Dunno if I’m that right person for that, Dave.”

“I never said I wanted it to be you.” His tone matched Jack’s, his words lies just as Jack’s had been, but both spoken so lightly that it was as clear as if they’d spoken truth. 

Jack laughed, shorter and breathier than all of the previous, and pushed his glass away. “I like you,” he said, as if it were so simple.

Then again, Davey thought, maybe it was.

“C’mon, Davey.” Jack stood and held out a hand to him. “Let’s get outta here.”

Davey hesitated, just a second, before lacing his fingers with Jack’s and allowing himself to be pulled through the crowds out into the open city streets.

They darted across the pavement, almost giddy, before stopping in the closest alleyway they could find. In a moment, Davey found his back pressed against the building’s stone exterior, Jack’s hands on his waist, and himself, pulling Jack against him until their chests were flush against each others’. It was right there, in the three inches of space between their faces where the fear lay. Of Jack’s rejection (Jack clearly and obviously wanted this), of the possible passersby (who would be in an alley behind that type of bar this late in the evening, besides other pairs of men with similar intentions?), of what it meant for him (he was still Davey. He liked boys. He liked Jack. That didn’t make anything different).

It was the final fear that gave him the most pause.

But Davey _wanted_ this. He’d lived so long in a constant cycle between compromise and indecision, rarely being sure and, when he was, never being able to have whatever it was he wanted in its entirety. But he could have Jack, now, no compromising, because this was what Jack wanted, too. And Davey was damn sure that he wanted this.

He reached out, placed a hand on the side of Jack’s face, and kissed him.

There was a intoxicating chaos in the muffled laughter against Davey’s lips that seemed stolen from the bar, that emanated out from Jack’s person and into Davey. Jack was all the heat and the intrigue and the passion but without the slight distortion of reality that left the room bordering on disturbing. 

Davey had taught himself the merits of order, the importance of following premade lines. But Jack was a storm that he was running to, desperately, fearlessly. He knew full well that he could easily be lost in such a storm.

But, as Jack’s hands slipped beneath his shirt, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

* * *

Davey’s seventh trip to the bar fell exactly two weeks after his first visit.

Exactly two weeks after the last time he’d seen Jack.

Following nights had found him leaving with other young men, but only two, both older than Jack but never much more than twenty, from Davey’s estimates. It was fine. It was fun. He knew it was pointless, missing Jack, when there were all these other people he did genuinely like. But that didn’t stop the stirring hope that he’d be standing alone in the corner of the loud room and a certain pretty boy with eyes that rivaled the bar in their wildness would find him, follow him out into an alleyway, and kiss him.

He _knew_ that expecting anything was setting himself up for disappointment. And yet, he couldn’t help but remember that last quick press of lips, the murmured “ _Let’s do this again_ ”, and the wink just before Jack stepped away, leaving Davey with unbuttoned clothes, ruffled hair, and a smile larger than he’d worn in longer than he could remember. 

The hope clashed entirely with his preexisting mindset of realism, but that didn’t make it go away. Every time he entered the bar, it was there, the small, optimistic _what if he’s here?_ that couldn’t be drowned out by the _I know he won’t be._

So, seeing Jack again was only half a surprise. Davey’s eyes drifted across the room, catching on a familiar figure leaning against a table and talking to two other men. It took a second or two for Davey to convince himself that it was actually Jack; there had been multiple occasions where he’d been half-sure some pretty stranger was him and had been subsequently disappointed each time. But now that he was actually sure, he was on his feet in a moment, ready to walk over and talk to him because _here I am, we can do that again_ -

Before the side of his brain not rattled with whatever cheap alcohol he’d blindly ordered that night reminded him that _no, that would actually be a really really ill-thought out, embarrassing thing to do_. There was no guarantee- or even implication, aside from that one sentence which could’ve easily been a line- that Jack _actually_ intended on speaking to him again. Davey had ruled, with what he’d say was near-certainty, that the only reason he was so attached to the idea of Jack was that he was his first. Since that obviously wasn’t the same for Jack, there was no reason he would care if Davey was there or not. Besides, Davey had frequented the bar nearly every other day for two weeks. If Jack had wanted to see him, they would’ve run into each other by then.

He forced his eyes not to fix or even linger on Jack, who would leave either without seeing him or pretending not to have. Maybe, once Jack had left, Davey could as well, maybe with some pretty stranger whose smile and touch and kiss he wouldn’t remember nearly as well as Jack’s. 

“Dave! Hey, Davey!”

Hearing his name called, Davey’s head snapped up. His face flushed as the voice fit a face in his head and he looked back down, not wanting to appear as expectant as he felt.

Davey felt a hand rest on his shoulder. He waited a second more- he wasn’t going to turn around immediately; he wasn’t desperate- before looking back to see Jack’s eyebrows unfurrow and his downturned lips reform that half-smile Davey still found so charming. “Oh, good. I was worried I was calling out to nobody for a second there.” Jack took his hand off Davey’s shoulder and pulled out the chair next to him to sit down. 

Davey didn’t speak, just watched him, unsure of where to go from here. He’d so accustomed himself to the idea of not seeing Jack that the prospect of conversation was a confusing one.

Jack’s eyes shifted to the side of the room, then back to Davey, and his eyebrows furrowed again. “You… do remember me, right? We met here about two weeks ago?”

“Yeah, Jack.” He let himself smile. Cautious, but smiling nonetheless. “I just… didn’t really expect to see you again.”

“You ain’t gotta make it sound like such a bad thing.” Jack’s grin widened and he leaned against the countertop. “It’s lucky we showed up here on the same day.”

“I’ve been around here a lot, actually.”

Jack frowned. “Shit, sorry. I woulda shown up sooner if I’d known.”

A bit annoyed at the suggestion that he had just been waiting around for Jack- which was no more than half-true- Davey replied, “I wasn’t alone. I had company most nights.” It was a stretch, but the quick flash of what could just be jealousy across Jack’s features validated it. Jealousy meant _meaning_. No one was jealous over someone they weren’t interested in. Davey forced down a proud smile, which he found easier to do as Jack subtly leaned away, eyes downcast.

“So, you waitin’ for someone?”

Davey paused a moment, weighing the nights he’d waited alone against the excitement in Jack’s voice when he’d called out to him. The decision, it turned out, was an easy one. Davey smiled and covered Jack’s hand with his own. “Not anymore.” 

Jack looked down at their hands and then back up at Davey and then, finally, returned the smile. “It’s good to see you again, Davey.”

“It’s good to see you, too.”

* * *

Things fell into an unsteady rhythm, after that.

More often than not, it was a chaotic waste of time, given that their meetings never followed any sort of pattern. It went like this: Davey would show up at the bar when he could get out of the house and, sometimes, Jack would be there. Other times he wouldn’t be. On the nights he didn’t show, Davey would wait around for him, drink a bit and flirt, if he felt up to it, but he only left with two other young men before retiring that idea altogether. He never liked any of them nearly as much as he liked Jack and, now that Jack was around more and more often, there was hardly a need.

Davey far preferred the nights Jack did show. One of them would seek the other out across the crowded room. They would sit together and talk and sometimes drink- only on the occasion that they both could afford it- and Jack would brush his fingertips over Davey’s hand, thigh, shoulder, as they spoke for anywhere between two minutes and half an hour. The talking invariably led to the two of them roaming the lamp-lit streets of the city and, more often than not, both the walks and conversation concluded with one of the two of them pushed against the wall, light bruises on their necks, and messy, undone clothing. 

But, not always.

As the days turned to weeks, nights with nothing but meaningless conversation began to pile up in Davey’s memory. Around one month after their first night at the bar, Davey had tentatively suggested that, instead of the chaos of never knowing when their next meeting would be, they actually picked dates ahead of time. Jack had smiled and nodded and held his hand, and Davey had felt relief uncoil a worry he hadn’t even known he had. That assurance- he and Jack _would_ be seeing each other again, soon, on a specific day- seemed to deplete the urgency. Sure, over half their meetings still went in a direction Davey wouldn’t tell his mother about, but so many more were just… talking. It was nice. It was a friendship, even if Davey wasn’t bold enough to say that aloud. It was something Davey had never had before.

He didn’t want anything to change it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey anyone remember when i actually was into newsies and wrote mediocre fic for it? well hey I'm back
> 
> btw it has been going on eight months, maybe more, since i've watched the source material so this is likely to be super out of character... if anything is too glaring please point it out to me. Character aside I do like to think my writing has improved somewhat so at least this has that going for it.
> 
> Big thanks to actingitout for beta-ing this chapter!!! even though I'm the worst and don't know how to respond to people in a timely manner
> 
> also the title is from Treacherous by taylor swift and look red is a damn good album and this song works weirdly well with this fic, a fact I didn't realize until I'd written about 10k words of it
> 
> that's it for this long ass note. If you're reading this, I love you. If you kudos, I love you AND adore you. If you leave a comment I will die for you


	2. Chapter 2

Three months after they had met, Davey knew Jack’s body as well as he knew his own. He knew where Jack’s hands were calloused from work and art. He knew what nearly every inch of Jack’s skin felt like beneath his hands. He knew Jack that liked to draw on his wrists, that there was almost always a bruise somewhere on his arms or legs- if not from fighting, then from recklessness-, and that he had a small, almost diamond-shaped birthmark on his shoulder. There was nothing wrong with that, except that those physical things were the only certainties about Jack.

Davey wasn’t sure if Jack had a family, who his friends were, if he went to school, or if he worked, or both. Hell, he didn’t even know Jack’s last name.

Everything Davey knew about him was contextual. Davey figured Jack liked art because of frequent paint splatters and little pictures drawn on his skin. He guessed he sold papers, from his outfits and the bag he carried which, occasionally, held a copy or two of the day’s newspaper. He doubted Jack had a family, because he’d never heard a word of them. 

They just didn’t discuss things like that. For two people who spent nearly half their time together talking, they didn’t speak of much of anything. Their conversations never went beyond immediate things: the weather, the news, the appearance and drunkenness of the people around them, or else drifted to one-off anecdotes of friends and family- the former in Jack’s and the latter in Davey’s- who remained nameless and existed only to give the stories context. It was enough on which to build a slightly-rickety friendship and enough to fill the time between kisses. But that was all it was.

Davey debated, just with himself, whether or not it was selfish to want more. Not in a romantic way- he wasn’t sure even if he liked Jack like that, and he tended to lean towards _no_ \- but just the fact that he knew Jack so well one way while lacking so much in another was enough to drive him half-insane. 

He was happy- more than happy!- with the relationship he and Jack shared. Jack had all those actual friends from his stories, with whom he could share relevant details of his life. They had Jack in that way, Davey had him in this way. It would be horribly unfair to ask to have both Jack’s body and his mind, especially when he almost did. Their conversations may not have been deep, but they were _something_. Davey should appreciate that.

So, he resolved to not say anything about it, no matter how much the curiosity was killing him.

But thank god Jack brought it up.

“You gotta family, right?” Jack asked, the cigarette between his lips muffling his words. It was earlier in the day, for their meetings, and the encroaching summer’s sun was out late enough that Davey could actually see most of Jack’s features, currently flat and unexpressive. He was almost entirely still, just barely leaning into the hand Davey raked through his hair.

Davey gazed down at Jack, his head rested in Davey’s lap. Physical contact was something Davey had always shied away from, except for with his immediate family. But with Jack, it was second nature. And, despite the risks of being seen sitting so intimately with a boy, it felt remarkably safe. He had no intentions of moving. “Yeah,” he answered. A pause. “Do you?”

“Yeah, Dave. My folks are out in Santa Fe, waiting for me.” Jack was a good liar, Davey had figured out by now. But his tone was so flat, far less emotional than the one with which he normally spoke. Besides, his tales had never detailed parents or siblings, certainly none out west. Davey was half-sure Jack wanted him not to believe. 

Just in case, he figured it would be better not to question him. “What about here?”

“I-” Jack stopped then, smiled, and held up one finger, telling Davey to wait. He snuffed the cigarette butt against the ground before reaching into the inner pocket of his vest and taking out a leatherbound book, about the size of Davey’s hand. “It ain’t so much parents or siblings, but I gotta couple of people here I count on.” He opened the book, only visible to himself, and his expression softened. 

“Jack, I can’t see that if you’re lying on my lap.”

With an exaggerated groan, Jack sat up and, within an instant, closed the distance that had momentarily existed between them. Using the hand not rested on Davey’s waist, he held open the book, allowing Davey to see the myriad sketches of various faces and people. He had to stifle a gasp; he’d figured Jack drew, but he didn’t know- “Jack, these are amazing.”

“They ain’t nothing but little sketches. Hardly call ‘em ‘amazing’,” he brushed off the comment, but, in the sunset-light, Davey could just see the blush spreading over his face.

“No, really, Jack.” Davey laced his fingers through Jack’s. “You’re really, really good.”

“Oh, shaddup.” Jack nudged him with his shoulder and Davey returned the action. It was just a playful push, really, but when they glanced back, Jack smiled a small, close-lipped smile so far from his usual cocky grin. It was… warm. It was warm and it made Davey conscious of every place they touched because all those places were also _so warm_. Jack must have felt that too, because his blush darkened and he looked away. 

For a moment, there was a type of silence that Davey couldn’t read. Before he could question it, Jack cleared his throat, so sudden that Davey almost flinched. “So, uh,” Jack said, and pointed to the first sketch on the page, that of a smiling boy around Davey’s age. “First up, this is Crutchie. He’s pretty much my brother, closest thing I got to family around here…” 

Jack continued on in that way, flipping through the pages and explaining the number of faces detailed meticulously on the paper. There were plenty of names Davey failed to catch and more he couldn’t remember a few minutes after, but the excitement and fondness in Jack’s voice made up for any lapses in understanding. Many of the faces made repeat appearances, especially that of Crutchie, with whom Jack seemed very close. He finished rambling on about something Crutchie had said the other day and turned the page, only stiffen entirely under Davey.

In an instant so short Davey was almost sure he imagined the tenseness, Jack relaxed. “I’m pretty sure I ain’t gotta explain who this is,” he said, pointing down at the sketch that took up the entirety of the page. Davey covered his mouth with one hand and reached the other down to trace over the outside of the drawing. The dark lines formed a face- Davey’s- in profile, looking down, not smiling. It was obviously drawn quickly; there was an impatience in the roughness of the lines. But it was still so beautiful. 

“Jack-”

“Don’t go getting emotional, Dave.”

“It’s just…” He trailed off. Taking the hand Jack had rested on his arm in his own, he turned his attention to the artist. “It’s beautiful, Jack. Thank you.”

Jack rolled his eyes but kept smiling. “Ain’t no trouble, drawing a beautiful person beautiful. Now, with some of the people I know who ain’t got half your looks…” Jack raised his eyebrows, teasing, and Davey rolled his eyes. “That’s pretty much all of the people I wanted to tell ya about.” He closed the sketchbook.

“Thank you, for showing me.”

“You really gotta stop thanking me for everything. If I’m doing something, I probably don’t mind it.”

Davey smiled and shrugged. He paused, before saying, “No one’s ever drawn me before.”

“That’s a damn shame, Dave. You deserve something way better than my little sketches.”

“Your drawings are beautiful, Jack.”

“ _You’re_ beautiful.” 

Davey looked away and laughed off the compliment. He had no frame of reference for what to do when complimented by someone other than his family. Sure, Jack had praised him plenty of times in the past few months, but ‘beautiful’? Beautiful was new. “Careful- if you keep saying that, I might just start believing you.”

“Believe me.” Jack’s eyes glinted in the sunlight. “Really, Davey, you are so goddamn pretty, it’d be a sin _not_ to draw you.”

“Jack… You’re- you’re pretty beautiful yourself.” Jack’s chuckle was so endearing and they were so close and all Davey could see were Jack’s eyes, the wisps of hair fallen in front of them, the patches of dirt covering his pink-tinged cheekbones. When Davey leaned forward and kissed him, it should have come as no surprise.

But Jack still froze beneath Davey’s lips.

Davey moved away- _Jack doesn’t want this now that’s_ fine _nothing’s wrong_ \- but then Jack moved, freeing his hand from Davey’s grasp to press against the back of Davey’s neck and pull him back against his mouth. Davey wrapped an arm around Jack’s waist and sighed into the kiss. He really, _really_ liked this.

But that didn’t mean he liked Jack. Yes, the kissing _was_ Jack, or, at least, part of the reason why Davey enjoyed his company, but the talking and the flirting and the drawings were as well and, if Davey were to fall for any version of him, it would be the latter. But he hadn’t. 

That duality that marked their relationship was what confused Davey most. There was sex and there was talking, two acts on polarized ends that repelled one another, never allowing a combination. That was why romance, something right between the two, was so difficult to fathom. It was something that lasted, that led to marriages and families in most people’s cases. Jack and Davey were two boys who kissed in dark alleys and flinched away when they heard footsteps. There was no hope of a future in that.

And yet.

“I want you to meet my family,” Davey said, mouth still half-pressed against Jack’s, who shifted away just enough for Davey to see his wide eyes and furrowed brows. Between that look and the silence Davey had never known how to associate with their relationship, it felt like the minuscule space between them had reformed into a heavy barrier. He opened his mouth in an attempt to backtrack, though what was there to say to fix that?

But then Jack was smiling. It was funny, how much better that seemed to make all of it. “That sounds pretty serious, Dave. Are you proposing?”

Davey smiled and shook his head, his shoulders sagging as they released their tension. “I think you’d like them. I think they’d like _you_.” His parents would be delighted with the simple fact that Davey had a friend he liked well enough to bring home. Les would probably put Jack up on a pedestal within a minute of knowing him, since he tended to latch onto any teenage male as a brother figure, except Davey, for whatever reason. And Sarah… 

Sarah would like him. Maybe _in that way_. Maybe not. Didn’t matter too much to Davey.

He started to regret the idea just a bit.

“I hope they’d like me,” Jack continued. “They ain’t gonna give me your hand, otherwise.”

Davey scoffed and forced down the giddy nervousness- for lack of a better way to describe the fluttering in his stomach- that had increased the more Jack joked about marriage. Joked. 

They were sixteen and seventeen, respectively. They were both boys. Davey didn’t even like him romantically. Jack was obviously _joking._

He pushed aside those thoughts and responded, “Think it over, at least?”

“Don’t need to. ‘Course I’d love to meet your family.” He was wearing that one smile, which favored the right side of his mouth and just open enough to see how his top row of teeth slightly overlapped the bottom. _God, he’s beautiful._ Davey quickly closed the distance and kissed him. As he pulled away, Jack asked, “What was that for?”

He decided to play into the marriage joke, as ridiculous as it was. “That was me, consummating our marriage.”

“Davey, I know you try to trip me up with your big words, but I actually know that one. And, if I ain’t wrong, ‘consummating’ involves a bit more than a kiss.”

Davey rested his wrists on Jack’s shoulders and kissed him again. “Alright, then, define it for me.” Jack laughed against his mouth, and Davey was struck with the beauty of the moment. It was just him and Jack- his first real friend, the first person outside his family for whom he’d really cared- with the sun half-set behind them as they leaned into each other. It was perfect.

When he had this, wanting anything else was pointless. So he refused to.

If there was a part of him, tied up with the fluttering in his stomach and the heat in his chest and the way he adored Jack’s smile, that protested, that _wanted_ , he would ignore it. 

It wasn’t worth the risk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (the reason Jack closes the sketchbook when he does is cause there's about a million more sketches of Davey after that point and he's also a bit in denial and doesn't want to have to explain That)
> 
> hey I'm Bacc
> 
> im gonna try to update more than once a month, especially considering i have a lot written, but we'll see how it Goes. anyway hope you enjoyed the Denial Boys
> 
> leave a kudos or comment if you love me, y'all are amazing, thank you for reading and have a great day!!!


	3. Chapter 3

_Are you proposing?_

_…_

_They ain’t gonna give me your hand, otherwise._

The words played on a tiresome, relentless loop in Davey’s mind. He knew there were more appropriate things to be thinking about at the moment- his book in front of him, for example, or the fact that Jack himself would be at the apartment, meeting Davey’s family, in less than an hour- but his thoughts, as usual, only focused on Jack. He groaned and placed his head down on the table. And the words continued to echo.

Davey was smart enough to know a joke when he heard it, and smart enough to know that there was no sense in getting worked up over one. He and Jack were friends. Their friendship was inherently sexual. Why shouldn’t they tease each other about things like that? It didn’t mean anything. And Davey didn’t want it to.

He didn’t want anything besides what they had, and yet. Marriage.

Davey’s mother married his father when she was eighteen years old, after barely two months of knowing him. Did she love him when they married? Was eighteen old enough to be in and understand love? Did marriage even need the presence of love, or just that of fondness?

In a few months, Davey would be seventeen and, by the time he was eighteen, it would have been over a year and a half since he and Jack had first met. Even now, he knew Jack better than many people knew their brides or bridegrooms, and liked him much more.

If Jack were a girl, or if Davey were, could they have married one day? They were well suited for each other, Davey liked to think. He never minded spending time with Jack, while he tired of most other people, even his family, after some time. They were both intelligent- in different ways, but nonetheless- and they seldom lacked a conversation topic. Was that enough?

His family, of course, would be an obstacle in this hypothetical. While they hadn’t talked much with Davey about marriage, they probably expected him to wed a well-educated, financially-stable Jewish girl. Jack was about the opposite of that. 

But neither he nor Jack was a girl, so it was a moot point. 

It was a moot point, an impossible thought, something Davey did not want, something Jack _definitely_ did not want.

So why did he _keep thinking about it_?

He spared a glance at the clock and realized he’d been caught up in his thoughts for far longer than he had intended to. It was nearly half past six, just about when he told Jack he’d meet him and show him to Davey’s apartment- he hadn’t wanted to just give Jack an address and hope he’d find his way.

Davey shut the book in front of him and stood, hurrying out into the kitchen. He kissed his mama on the cheek and gave her a quick goodbye. He hadn’t told her about Jack, but he was in a rush now and, besides, she was always encouraging Davey to bring home friends. Surely, it would be fine. He assured himself of that as he stepped out into the busy streets of the city for the first time that day.

It didn’t take him long to find Jack, standing at the corner of two streets not far from where they met, holding a newspaper and calling out something of which Davey only caught the tail-end. Someone passing seemed intrigued; she exchanged her penny for a paper and then she was off, just as Jack’s eyes caught on Davey. 

Jack’s large, exaggerated selling-smile softened into a smaller, more genuine one that Davey had gotten more and more accustomed to seeing. “Extra, extra,” Jack teased, holding out a new paper as Davey neared him. “Pretty boy is taking me to meet his family. Read about it on page four.”

Davey’s grimace just barely hid his smile. “That was terrible, Jack. Your flirting needs work.”

“Ain’t that bad. It worked on you.” Jack nudged him with his shoulder. Holding back the grin just didn’t work any longer, and Davey smiled, albeit a smile smaller and more close-lipped than it could’ve been. That fluttering in his stomach was acting up again. “So, we heading to your place now? Cause, not that I ain’t all about being on time, but I still got about five more of these damn papes to sell and god knows Pulitzer ain’t gonna buy ‘em back if I don’t.”

Davey shook his head. “It’s fine, take your time.” He’d slipped out without telling his parents, but it wasn’t the first time he had recently. If he didn’t return back for a bit longer than expected, it wasn’t the end of the world. And he never complained about more time with Jack.

“Won’t take a minute, Dave.”

Davey watched him saunter off, calling out headlines with the confidence of someone telling his own life story. It was a special kind of genius, Davey thought. Sure, Jack hadn’t been in school for a long while, if ever, from what Davey had pieced together. But, between his art and cleverness and charisma, Jack was meant for some amazing things. It would break Davey’s heart if he never got a chance to reach them.

Jack was beautiful, too. The early-summer sun, still bright in the time just between afternoon and evening, illuminated Jack in a way different from the sunset’s dimness or the lights at the bar. He looked… younger, Davey decided on. More like a boy. Like a seventeen-year-old kid who had been dealt some shitty cards in life but was still smiling, still beautiful, still damn smart.

Davey had been preoccupied watching Jack that he hadn’t really been listening to the words he’d been saying. An elderly man handed Jack a nickel as payment and left before Jack could protest the tip. That had caught Davey’s attention, a bit, and he listened enough to hear the next headline Jack called out: “‘Real estate market in chaos! Thousands in property lost! Uproar in the city!’”

Davey frowned. He wouldn’t say he followed the news religiously, but that didn’t sound right. He walked forward towards Jack, standing behind and just narrowly avoiding Jack’s arm hitting him in his face. “Jack?”

“Yeah?” Jack lowered his hand, returning his attention in full to Davey.

“Where does it say the thing about real estate?”

Jack had two papers left. He handed one to Davey and pointed out the leftmost of three headlines. “There, Dave.”

“Jack, this says ‘The Burden is on Real Estate’. I don’t see anything about thousands of dollars lost-”

Jack grinned. “Tell you something, Dave, nobody never made a living as a newsie by reading off the paper. These guys can’t write headlines for shit, so it becomes our job. If we do a bit of improving on the truth, ain’t no one hurt by it.” Jack winked at Davey, who was now clutching the paper tightly in his hands.

“So, you lie to your customers?”

“I just tell them what they want to hear.”

Davey furrowed his eyebrows. “But lying is- it’s not right, Jack.” It wasn’t articulate and wasn’t even what he meant, really, but he’d never argued with Jack before- he hardly had enough conversations to argue with _anyone_ \- and Jack seemed so calm-

“Well, telling the truth ain’t never kept me from starving.”

Jack was still smiling, but there was an edge of warning to the tight-lipped, eyes-dark expression. Davey tensed, not quite willing to back down. “I was taught not to lie.”

“I ain’t saying you gotta.”

“But it’s not-”

“Dave, not all of us got a family making us dinner each night,” Jack interrupted. His voice wasn’t angry, but he wasn’t smiling anymore. “When you don’t eat for a couple of days, morals lose a bit of worth.” The smile returned, but not soft or full of feigned enthusiasm. Davey didn’t know what it was. “But you ain’t gotta worry about that.”

Davey’s stomach twisted, harsh and hollow and painful and the direct opposite of the gentle fluttering he’d begun to associate with Jack. “I-” He was just a bit too proud to apologize. “I understand.” Who was he say that if he himself were hungry, or if someone he cared about were- if Jack were- that he wouldn’t do the same? He wouldn’t do nearly as well, of course, but… The silence hung heavy in the air. “And… you’re really good at it,” he complimented, because he just wanted to go back to the teasing and the smiling and the flirting.

“Good at lying?” Jack teased, one eyebrow raised. Any anger on his face dissipated like it had never been there in the first place. “I’m surprised you’re suddenly praising me for it.”

Davey smiled, relief warm in his chest. “I didn’t say I approved. I said you’re good at it. You’re… very persuasive, Jack.”

“Damn right I am.” He grabbed Davey’s arm and, for a moment, Davey lamented that they were in public. He wanted to lace his fingers through Jack’s and walk with him, hand in hand, down the street. “Come on, Dave. Don’t wanna keep your folks waiting.”

Davey nodded, just barely leaning into Jack’s touch as they strolled down the city streets. It wasn’t a far walk; surely they could’ve found something to speak about in that time. But, instead, a gentle silence had fallen over the two of them. Far from uncomfortable, Davey found it was much like the first night in the bar, the pause where he’d just watched Jack and been taken with his beauty, and felt no less for the time spent admiring. He’d known so little about Jack then. Well, he knew so little about Jack now, to be fair. But how far they’d come in the months was… it was nice. It was good. It was a better companionship than Davey had ever imagined himself having.

“What’s your last name?” Jack broke the silence, but not like a shatter. The sound of his voice eased them out of a quiet that hadn’t been a barrier, just a state of being as good as talking. “Just cause, figured I’d wanna greet your folks in some way. And we’ve known each other a bit of a while to have not exchanged last names.”

“Yeah,” Davey agreed. When Jack looked at him expectantly, he realized what he’d skipped over and answered: “Oh, Jacobs. Davey Jacobs.”

“‘Davey Jacobs’...” Jack echoed, trying out the words. Davey loved the way he said them. “Mine’s Kelly. This feels very official now, don’t it, Jacobs?”

“Sure, Kelly.” There was something familiar in that name. _Jack Kelly._ He could’ve sworn he’d heard it before. But maybe that was just an effect of thinking too much about Jack. “That’s my building.” He pointed ahead at his tenement, a dull structure indistinguishable from the ones around it. It wasn’t impressive, but he wasn’t really trying to impress Jack with it.

He wasn’t exactly sure what he was trying to do.

Davey led him away from the front entrance towards the side of the building. In answer to Jack’s furrowed eyebrows, Davey took his hand and explained: “The fire escape is faster.” They made it up four flights of rickety black stairs before Davey stopped in front of a set of windows that had been dark as long as he had lived there.

Jack frowned. “Dave, I ain’t trying to question your knowledge of your home, but I’m pretty sure this apartment is empty,” he said, leaning against the wall next to the black windows.

“No one lives there. Some people say it’s haunted, but I don’t believe in that kind of thing.” He stepped closer to Jack. “My apartment is two stories up. But I wanted to stop here first, cause no one is around to see us here.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Did you take me here to kill me?”

“Not today.” Davey was within inches of his friend, now. He placed a hand on Jack’s face and leaned in, pressing his lips to Jack’s for half a second. “Thought we could spend a few minutes here before heading up?”

Jack cast an exaggerated glance towards the windows before looking back at Davey. “With all the ghosts watching us?”

“I don’t think they’re paying too much attention.”

“Never know, Dave,” Jack said, pulling Davey in by his belt loops. “Just in case-” Jack turned his head back to the building. “Hey ghosts, fuck off!”

Davey lightly hit Jack’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “Quiet down, you’re going to let someone know we’re here.”

“As long as it ain’t the ghosts.”

Davey rolled his eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“It’s called taking precaution.”

“Just kiss me, Jack.”

Jack finally looked fully back at him, and grinned. “Gladly.”

Kissing Jack was something Davey didn’t know if he’d ever tire of. He buried one hand in Jack’s hair and wrapped the other arm around Jack’s waist. As Jack moved a hand to his shoulder, Davey kissed down the side of his neck, stopping only when he reached the place that would be just barely visible above the shirt collar. He bit down, wanting to leave a bruise that would be almost-but-not-quite hidden.

Jack made a sound between a sigh and a laugh before asking, “Dave, ya know we’re literally just about to go see your family, right?”

“Yes, I do.” Davey moved his hand to the side of Jack’s face and kissed him once more, slowly, before stepping away. “Let’s go.”

“Damn, that ain’t fair,” Jack said, hurrying to catch up with Davey. From behind, he wrapped an arm around Davey’s waist and brought his lips to his neck. Davey let out a breathy sigh as Jack kissed the skin near the base of his throat. Before Jack, he’d never imagined taking risks like this, just two stories below where his family was waiting for him. But, before Jack, there had never been anything worthy of risk.

Jack pulled away and pressed a kiss to Davey’s cheek. It was weirdly domestic and made Davey’s heart race the way everything else they did- kisses and touches that were far less innocent- didn’t. “Now we’s both heading to a respectable meeting looking debauched.”

“Good word, Jack.”

Jack draped an arm around Davey’s shoulder and walked up the stairs alongside him. “Well, I happen to know a lot about debauchery.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Jack chuckled as Davey began opening the window. “Hey, Dave, one second.” Davey turned around to see Jack straightening his hat again and standing a bit taller than usual. He seemed almost nervous. It was endearing. “How do I look? I wanna make a good first impression.”

Davey smiled and walked over to him. There was a small patch of dirt on Jack’s cheekbone that could come off but, barring that, he was fairly presentable. _Though,_ Davey supposed, _when someone’s born as pretty as Jack, ‘presentable’ is easily reached._

Figuring he should help with the dirt, at least, he licked his thumb and wiped at the dirt, the way his mama had done for him a million times. Jack pushed him away without any real force. “Gross, Dave,” he laughed and Davey flushed. But there had been no malice in the tone. “What are you, my ma?”

“Someone needs to take care of you. What was that about making a good first impression?”

Jack groaned. “Fine.” Davey smiled, victorious, and finished wiping away the dirt. When he finished, there was little more than a few inches between their faces. But they were right outside Davey’s apartment. There would be time for kissing later.

“Now, you’re ready,” Davey promised, stepping away. “And, in answer to your question, you look good. Always.” Before Jack could reply, Davey stepped through the open window into his shared bedroom, which was, luckily, empty. Sarah was out, he knew, so his parents and Les must be in the kitchen.

Jack was looking around the room in slight wonderment. He stepped over to of the beds- Davey’s- and pushed down on the cushion as if testing it. “This your room, Dave?” He was too busy glancing around the room to meet Davey’s eyes with the question.

“Mine and my siblings’, yes.”

“It’s nice.” Jack walked over to the small desk piled with schoolwork and books and loose papers and flipped through them. “So, you do go to school?”

“Yeah.” 

“Yeah, I’d thought but- Yeah. ‘Course you do. You’re a smart guy, Dave.” Jack looked at Davey, finally, and smiled. Davey returned it, feeling a more subdued fluttering in his stomach. “Fucking arithmetic,” he muttered, looking back down. “I ain’t dealt with numbers in years, aside from cards and money. I don’t get any of this shit.”

“I don’t, either, a lot of the time,” Davey concurred. As much as he liked the compliments, Jack going through his things was a bit disconcerting. He looked so out of place standing there, the secret Davey had kept from the rest of his life immersed in Davey’s everyday existence. 

“Ya know, Dave, I-”

Jack’s statement was interrupted by Davey’s mother calling in from the other room. “David, are you talking to someone?”

Davey looked back at Jack, smiling apologetically before seeing the look of amusement on his friend’s face. “‘David’?” Jack questioned.

People didn’t call him David, aside from his parents and teachers, sometimes. He couldn’t imagine Jack calling him that. “You didn’t think my full name was Davey, did you?” 

“‘Spose not.” Jack shrugged. “Just never really thought about it.” He paused, almost unsure. “To be fair, my birth name is a hell of a lot worse.”

“Birth name?” Jack nodded. “Which is?”

“I ain’t telling you.”

“David?” his mama called again, appearing in the doorway through which Jack and Davey could clearly be seen. “Who’s this?”

“This is my friend, Jack. He’s- I invited him over.”

Davey’s awkwardness and his mother’s confusion were no match for the charm in Jack’s smile. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Jacobs.” He shook her hand, making full eye contact. 

“Please, call me Esther.” She then turned back to her son. “David, why haven’t you told me about this young man?”

“I hadn’t…” Davey didn’t have an answer for that that wasn’t the truth, which wouldn’t have gone over well. “I…”

“Think he wanted me to meet you all first,” Jack explained, saving Davey from where he’d been floundering. “Your son is a great speaker, but there ain’t no one can properly explain me, I’m afraid to say.”

Esther nodded. “Are you staying for dinner, Jack?”

“If you’ll have me, of course. Davey’s told me lots about your cooking.” He hadn’t, but as Davey’s mother smiled, Davey figured it didn’t matter.

“It will be a few more minutes; I need David to set the table now.” Davey nodded just before his mother turned and left the room.

“That was… impressive,” Davey granted. It was an understatement.

Jack’s grin changed from the fake, overzealous one he’d displayed for customers and Davey’s mother alike into the warmer one Davey liked far more. “Seeing the merits of stretching the truth yet?”

“It was impressive,” Davey repeated. “That’s all I’m giving you.”

They were now in the kitchen, standing perhaps a bit closer than friends should. Not that Davey really knew. He sidestepped away and tried to ignore the confused gaze Jack fixed on him. 

Davey’s father and brother’s curious expressions told Davey they’d already been informed of who Jack was. Nonetheless, Davey was about to awkwardly introduce him again, but was cut off by Jack walking over to shake his father’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Jacobs,” he greeted. Turning to Les: “You must be Dave’s little brother. I’m-”

“My name’s Les. And I ain’t little.” Les corrected. Jack glanced back at Davey with an approving grin. “Who’re you?”

“The name’s Jack Kelly.”

Les’s eyes widened, he smiled, and practically leapt out of his chair: “You’re _the_ Jack Kelly?”

Jack paused, but he wasn’t turned towards Davey, so he couldn’t read his expression. “The one and only, kid.” Davey walked up next to him.

“Les, how do you know Jack?” he asked.

Les’s eyes stayed focused on Jack, not even sparing a glance towards Davey. “My friend’s brother is a newsie, and I hear _so many_ stories about you, Jack. Davey, did you know he rode outta jail on the back of Governor Roosevelt’s carriage?”

Davey rolled his eyes; Les was fond of tall tales. As fond as he was of retelling them to his half-listening family. That explained where Davey had heard the name, at least. “Les, your friends spread lots of rumors, don’t bother-”

“I did though, Dave.” Jack looked so damn impressed with himself and, a second later, so did Les. It was a much more charming look on Jack. “The governor was making a good show, proving he cared about us poor orphans. Worked out well enough for both of us, I’d say.”

Davey blinked, a bit taken aback. He knew Jack wasn’t ever entirely honest, either, but Davey liked to think Jack wouldn’t blatantly lie to him, especially on something as trivial as this. Davey’s parents, on the other hand, seemed more than a bit scandalized. Likely because the first friend their son had brought home in years turned out to be somewhat of an infamous criminal.

“I’m sorry, Jack, but are you saying you were in jail?” Esther asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Jack turned to her, head bowed a bit in a rare show of humility. It was just that though- a show. Jack would’ve made a great actor. “Yes, ma’am, but they ain’t real fair in those places, ya know. As Les here said, I’m a newsie, and we ain’t paid the best. I can manage for myself-” Jack’s humility didn’t go so far as to deny that, “- but not all the other kids can. I try to help out, but my own pay ain’t often enough to go around, so sometimes- I think you get it.” Jack was a liar and an actor, and Davey wanted to know exactly why he ended up in a juvenile jail- Jack had never told him that, either- but he suspected this story wasn’t too far from the truth. From what Davey had seen in just the sketches, he really cared about his friends. Surely he’d go to jail for them.

Davey’s parents seemed to accept that and, maybe with a bit more of both wariness and pity than before, offered for him to sit down while Davey set the table. But Jack, being Jack, was a bit affronted by the pity, so he helped Davey out with the plates. Les, on the other hand, was decidedly not helping. Instead, he sat in one of the chairs staring at Jack and asking him question after question.

“Hey Jack!” Les called, as if he wasn’t within four feet of the other boy.

“Yeah?” Jack was smiling again, replacing the look of concentration he’d worn while putting down plates. He clearly was fond of Les already, which was a good thing. Les needed another teenage boy around to put up with him.

Les asked, with an air of condescension a nearly-ten-year-old should not be able to have, “Why are you friends with Davey?”

Davey froze, handful of silverware still in one fist, digging into the skin of his palm. Sure, he’d wondered the same a few times, but he tried to dismiss his insecurities about the whole thing. They were bored teenagers who liked to kiss boys; Jack- probably- needed this friendship as much as he did. But, apparently, Jack was a newsie who toed the line between famous and infamous and had met the governor. Maybe Davey should have something to worry about.

Esther Jacobs, who was known to work as a sort of damage control whenever one of her children said something rude or offensive in the company of strangers, immediately walked over and rested her hand on Les’s shoulder as a gentle warning. “I think what Les meant to say was, how did the two of you meet? I’m assuming you don’t go to David’s school.” 

“Don’t go to school at all, Esther.” Jack seemed to take to the first name basis. “To answer Les’s question, me and Davey is friends cause I think he’s a pretty great guy and he thinks of me the same. Or, at least, I’m hoping he does.” Jack glanced back at Davey who nodded and smiled, half-reassuring and half-reassured.

Les looked like he was about to further question this, before Esther squeezed his shoulder. “I’m glad he brought you over, then. But really, where did you meet?”

Davey really, truly didn’t know how to answer that and, this time, he didn’t even try before letting Jack take over. “He was walking home from somewhere- school, probably- and I was out selling. It was a bit of a slow day, so when he walked past me without buying a paper, I thought I’d pester him about it for a bit.”

“That was the day I was home late,” Davey added. “He wouldn’t leave me alone and kept blocking my way as I was trying to walk.” The day Davey referred to was one where he’d met Jack earlier in the day, just after Davey’s classes had ended. They’d kissed in an alleyway for a bit before Davey had to return home. He hadn’t had an excuse for his tardiness until now.

“Well, you ended up liking me well enough anyway. Though you never actually bought a pape.” He and Jack shared another smile. “And I’ve stuck around him since. He’s a good kid, your son.”

Esther smiled. “I’m glad, Jack. And Davey-”

“I’m sorry I’m late,” came a voice through the suddenly opened doorway. Sarah walked in, hair falling in a cascade behind her as she rushed over to her mother and kissed her on the cheek. “Hello, mama, I’d meant to be home sooner but the girls-” Sarah trailed off as she noticed it was not just the five Jacobses in the room. Her gaze fixed on Jack, one of confusion, before darting to Davey and back to Jack. And Jack… 

Jack was staring at her in awe.

Davey felt sick.

“Davey, why’d you never tell me you had such a beautiful sister?” He asked, loud enough to make it clear he wanted Sarah to hear. He stepped forward and held out his hand for her to shake. “My name’s Jack Kelly. Dave’s friend.”

Sarah glanced once more at Davey, eyebrows furrowed. It was great that everyone in his family was thoroughly shocked that he had a friend. She returned her gaze to Jack, took his outstretched hand, and smiled, close-mouthed and casual. “Sarah Jacobs. It’s good to meet a friend of Davey’s.”

“Lovely to meet you, too,” Jack said, before raising their clasped hands to his mouth so he could kiss the back of her hand. Kissed her hand the same way he’d kissed Davey’s neck, maybe twenty minutes prior.

He felt vaguely nauseous, now.

But there was no one to blame but himself for that, of course. He’d known Jack was flirty (but he hadn’t known Jack liked girls), he’d known people tended to like Sarah more than they liked him (but he hadn’t thought much about that because he hadn’t known Jack liked girls), he’d told himself that it didn’t even _matter_ because he wasn’t even interested in Jack romantically (but why didn’t Jack tell him that _he liked girls_?). 

It was no wonder they’d flirt. And it didn’t mean anything. It didn’t mean anything more than what Jack and Davey had; it probably meant less, actually, since they didn’t know each other, but it _could_ mean something one day because Sarah was a girl and Jack was a boy who _liked girls_ , apparently, so with Sarah he-

“Dave? You alright?”

Freed from his thoughts, Davey turned to Jack. “Yeah, fine.” His words were a bit clipped at the end. It wasn’t fair to Jack, who wasn’t doing anything wrong- well, actually, he shouldn’t just show up and flirt with Davey’s sister in front of him, that was definitely inappropriate. And Davey wasn’t jealous- he _wasn’t_ because he didn’t want Jack romantically- so he had no reason to be annoyed or hurt.

He was though. Shit.

Jack nodded, not quite believing him but not about to protest, either. “Glad, Dave.” And he sat down next to Sarah, and Davey sat down next to him, and tried not to grimace as Jack continuously and obviously flirted with her.

The rest of dinner didn’t go any better.

For some reason, Jack had deemed it appropriate to rest his hand on Davey’s thigh beneath the table while hardly looking at him in favor to talk to the other members of his family, specifically Sarah. Sometimes he did incorporate Davey into the conversation, but Davey had never been good at hiding his annoyance, so he wasn’t much of an asset to the discussion.

Davey found solace in just a few things during the meal: the constant pressure of Jack’s hand on his leg and the just visible red-ish mark on Jack’s neck. If Jack liked girls now, he’d also liked them before. Nothing about the relationship he and Jack shared had changed; Davey had just learned something new. So what if Jack would go on to marry a woman someday? Davey had him now. That was what mattered.

 _That’s what matters_ , he told himself, but with every smile and compliment Jack gave Sarah, his stomach sunk down further.

Dinner had finished but conversation continued. Davey’s parents were wary of Jack as he flirted with their daughter, but, overall, they seemed interested and entertained by him. Les obviously loved him, asking him plenty of varied and random questions that Jack never failed to answer with that same easy smile. Sarah was the one he couldn’t read. She joked and teased in equal responses to Jack’s flirtation, but never fully smiled when his compliments went within the realm of too romantic. She kept glancing back and forth between Jack and Davey, eyes narrowed knowingly and Davey… Davey worried.

He worried because Sarah was smarter than anyone ever gave her credit for, and that cleverness could make Jack fall for her or enable her to uncover the nature of Davey and Jack’s relationship and, honestly, Davey couldn’t decide which would be worse.

Eventually, the conversation and nerves got to be too stifling and he announced that he needed a minute out on the fire escape. No sooner had he taken a few steps away from the table did he hear Jack excuse himself as well and, by the time he’d reached the window, he could hear fast footsteps echoing behind him. Then, they were both outside, overlooking the city in silhouette against a sky tinged pink-orange by the sunset. It was the most beautiful time of day. Davey wished he were happier. 

“Dave.” Jack placed a hand on Davey’s arm. When no response came, he stepped forward until they were stood next side-by-side, shoulders pressed into each others’. “You alright?”

Davey sidestepped away, allowing a few inches of space between him and Jack. If Jack had noticed the nervous intention behind the distance, he ignored it. “I’m fine, Jack.”

“Good.” Jack paused. “Your family’s great, Davey. I really like them.”

“They like you, too.”

“I’m glad.”

There was a moment of silence, followed by another, and another, until Davey found it useless to count them. Jack was watching him and he was watching the shift in the sky’s hues. Davey was thinking about Jack and Sarah and _Jack and Sarah_ and Jack was thinking of god knows what. 

Neither was speaking, but it wasn’t the comfortable silence of their walk here. Davey didn’t know what this was.

Jack sighed. “Something’s wrong, ain’t it?”

“No.”

“Dave.”

“I’m fine, Jack.”

“You keep saying that. But you ain’t looking at me.”

Davey clenched his hands wrapped around the banister and felt the old nails and chipped paint dig into his palms. “You didn’t… You never told me you liked girls.” He forced his voice not to waver as he spoke. It didn’t matter that Jack didn’t tell him because he didn’t care about Jack in a way that was long-term, because long-term was romantic and he _didn’t like Jack that way_.

The harder he tried to convince himself, the more empty the thought felt.

Jack furrowed his eyebrows and blinked- once, twice- as if trying to piece together the implications. “Yeah, Dave,” he said, finally. “I like girls. I like boys, too. I didn’t think I needed to clarify.” And he shouldn’t need to, of course. Davey just wanted too much. “But I didn’t mean to make you upset. If that’s all-”

“You’re flirting with my sister.”

“Oh.” Jack frowned. “I didn’t mean it seriously or nothing. Just fooling around, like I do with most girls. And boys. And you.”

“She’s my _sister_ , Jack. I don’t want you ‘fooling around’ her. If you don’t have actual intentions-”

Jack scoffed. “I ain’t got ‘actual intentions’ with you, either, and you don’t mind us fooling around.” Davey tried to pretend words didn’t sting, but soon gave up. He’d more or less realized it, now, as much as he wished he hadn’t. “Unless they get some radically new changes to marriage in a couple years, that is.” The addition was a joke, not a comfort, but it still reduced just a bit of the pain in Davey’s chest.

“That’s different, Jack. You don’t know her.”

“Didn’t know you when we started. It ain’t any- oh.” Jack’s eyes widened and he grinned- more of a smirk, really- at Davey. “You’re jealous, ain’t you?”

Davey felt the heat rise to his face. “Jack-”

“It ain’t nothing bad, Dave. Don’t think I’d like it much if you started flirting with Crutchie.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Sure thing.” Jack placed his hand over Davey’s. “Look, I like flirting. I do it a lot. It don’t usually lead to nothing, unless I really like the person and they like me, too.” Jack lifted their held hands to his mouth and pressed a long, lingering kiss on the back of Davey’s hand. “I really like you, Dave.”

Davey was sure his entire face was red by this point. What Jack was saying… Davey didn’t want to read into it to much- hell, Jack had just said they were only fooling around- but what if Jack _meant it_? 

Davey could admit it, now: he really, _really_ wanted Jack to mean it. 

“I really like you, too.”

“And I ain’t gonna flirt with Sarah anymore if you don’t want me too. I like her well enough, but I barely know her and I sure as hell wouldn’t choose her over you.” The warm night seemed to get warmer when Jack stepped forward. Those familiar butterflies fluttered their wings in his stomach and, now that Davey accepted why, it felt beautiful. 

“So,” Jack continued, voice still soft, before leaning back and fixing Davey with a perfect, shit-eating grin. “Don’t be jealous.”

Davey pushed him away with a scoff, hiding the laughter that bubbled up from his still-fluttering stomach. “I’m not jealous, Jack.”

“Yeah, cause you ain’t gotta be no more. I practically just proposed to you out here, so hope your parents like me enough to have me as a son-in-law.” And Jack pulled him against his side and grinned and Davey laughed and… good. This was good. They were okay.

And yes, the marriage jokes still made his stomach flutter, but at least he could finally recognize why. There was still ambiguity around their relationship, questions Davey wasn’t ready for Jack or himself to answer. There were still millions of things about Jack that Davey didn’t know, knowledge to which he wasn’t sure if he was entitled. There were still the mysteries of _could this last?_ and _does he want it to?_.

But there, on the fire escape, half in the purple light of the setting sun and half in the shadow of buildings, they laughed and held hands and, at least in that moment, he let those thoughts fade away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes:
> 
> -I have a very love-hate relationship with this chapter. I wrote the first draft, god, months ago. There are parts I think are great and others i rewrote until they didn't make me wince reading, but still aren't where I want them to be. With this monster of a chapter (6k words), they really should have been cut, but they were needed for added conflict, or explanation, or cause they tie in later. But what's good of this chapter is good, I hope.
> 
> -the birth name thing with Jack is a reference to the 1992 newsies Francis Sullivan thing, which I think is clear but it occurred to me that not everyone has seen 1992 (which is a damn shame, that movie is a glorious trainwreck). I do consider Jack's birth name being Francis as canon in any universe
> 
> -Davey is totally projecting about his family being surprised that he has a friend. hes just a bit insecure
> 
> -this chapter isn't super late!! that being said its been written for months so no reason it even took so long but!! here we are
> 
> Anyway thanks so much to everyone who commented, yall make my day, i have all my emails from ao3 saved. Please let me know what you thought about this!!! And have a great day!!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey warning Davey has a panic attack in this chapter, nothing too graphic (its really just his thoughts) but it does happen, from around "'Shit,' Davey murmured," to "'David!' Jack’s voice was nearly a yell," in case y'all wanna skip that. stay safe friends

“Jack?”

From where he was perched on the bed, Davey could see as Jack look up from the sketchbook in front of him to meet his eyes. He’d been watching Jack for the past few minutes, noticing the way he hummed to himself as he drew, or sang a word or two under his breath. Davey wanted to hear him sing for real, one day.

“Yeah, Dave?”

“My aunt is sick,” he said, leaning forward on the wooden bedpost. “My family is going to visit her this weekend.”

“Shit, Davey. I’m sorry.” Jack’s eyebrows furrowed in real, genuine sympathy. Even things like this made Davey’s chest warm, now, which was almost ridiculous. “So we ain’t going to Medda’s on Sunday?”

“Oh, no, it isn’t that serious, so I’m not going with them,” Davey clarified and, yeah, he probably should have made that clear. “I convinced my parents to let me stay, cause I have work for school and somebody has to watch the apartment.”

Jack sat up from where he’d been lying, enough for Davey to see a hint of a smile on his face, and folded his arms on the edge of the bedpost. “You got this place to yourself, then?”

“For the whole weekend.”

“Thinking of inviting anybody over?” Jack asked, head rested on his arms, no more than six inches from Davey. It was an unspoken game they played in Davey’s apartment, toying with proximity, getting as close as possible without actually going in for the kiss. More often than not, it ended in a stalemate. As Davey had found, he and Jack were far too proud and competitive, respectively, to be the first to pull away.

Davey forced down a smile and looked up and to the right, feigning thought. “No one I can think of.” He played into the game and leaned forward. Three inches between them, now. “Do you have any suggestions?”

“I’m sure there’s a roguishly handsome artist who’d love an invitation.” Jack tilted his head up towards Davey. Two inches.

Davey frowned and shook his head, making sure to leave no more than an inch between him and Jack. “I don’t think I know anyone who matches that description.” His voice was a breath from Jack’s lips. Looking up from his mouth, Davey raised his eyebrows in a silent challenge.

“Well, Davey,” Jack started, just before interrupting himself to press his lips to Davey’s, for hardly a second. “Anybody coming to mind, now?”

Instead of responding, Davey opted to shove Jack away from him. There had been no force in it, but Jack didn’t resist and fell, laughing, to the ground. He looked proud of himself, which was definitely annoying, and yet nowhere near as annoying as it was painfully attractive.

“So fucking violent!” Jack laughed. “Jeez, a guy tries to show some affection-”

Davey extended his hand and pulled Jack back up so he could whisper to him, “My entire family is home.”

“Oh, yeah, like resting half an inch from each other would have been any easier to explain away.” That was fair, and Jack knew it. He also knew that Davey liked the rush of trying as hard as they could to get caught without the repercussions of being found out. But, as the glimmer in Jack’s eye told, he liked it just as much. “But yeah, I’ll wait. We got all weekend, don’t we?”

“You’re assuming I’m inviting you?” Jack raised an eyebrow and Davey relented, “Fine. Come over after work on Friday.”

“Can’t wait.” Jack took Davey’s hand and squeezed it once. “Gotta go, Dave. See you then.”

“See you.”

Jack grabbed his art supplies from the ground, waved a farewell, and disappeared out the window. With a small smile lingering on his lips, Davey gazed out where Jack had exited for a minute or two, ensuring he was really gone. Once he was positive, he let himself fall backwards on the bed, beaming, hands covering his face.

Davey was so incredibly happy, in a way he could never remember being otherwise. And it was all because of Jack. They were friends- close ones, now- and Davey really, _really_ liked him. Cheeks-flushed, constantly-laughing, would-do-anything-to-see-him-smile type of liking. And, from what Davey could tell, Jack felt the same.

(The word ‘love’ had come to mind once or twice, but he always shoved it down. Even after six months, it was too fast, too much commitment, too much of a change to think of. Besides, God knows what Jack would think.)

Davey liked Jack, Jack liked him, and they were going to spend the weekend together, just the two of them, in Davey’s apartment.

Things were good.

So fucking good.

* * *

“I was kinda surprised when you kissed me, that first time,” Jack said, breaking the silence. They were playing their fourth game of cards that night, using crackers as betting chips- which wasn’t fair, Davey had protested, because those were all his to begin with- and letting their competitive spirits overtake the need for conversation. Except for comments about the game, such as: “I’m clearing.” And Jack pushed the short center pile to the side, placing his threes on the bare floor.

Davey looked at the cards for a moment before putting down his six. He was more concerned with Jack’s comment than the game, but not by much. “Isn’t that why anyone goes there? We’d been flirting, pretty obviously, if I remember correctly.”

“Well, yeah.” Jack put down a few eights. “Knew we was gonna do _something_. Lots of guys skip over the kissing, is all.”

Heat rose to Davey’s face with what he couldn’t really classify as embarrassment. Jack wasn’t trying to make him feel bad- he wouldn’t do that- and all those little constant worries that plagued him always seemed a bit quieter when faced in Jack’s presence.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t know. It wasn’t like I had any experience.” He only had two cards left in his hand; he put down the jack. “But I get what you mean. I was surprised the first time a guy _didn’t._ But then that became the more common of the two.”

“Always forget you had other guys,” Jack muttered, eyebrows furrowed, and Davey was ready to tease him for both his jealousy and his hypocrisy. But then Jack put down a seven on the pile. He smiled, mischievous, as if he knew exactly what Davey’s last card was. Honestly, he probably did.

Davey groaned and picked up the now tall discard pile. “Bastard,” he accused, loving the laugh with which Jack responded, even as he forced himself to keep a frown. It wasn’t that difficult; he was definitely going to lose now, with no hope of getting rid of all of his cards.

Jack winked and carried on the game. A few more minutes of silence, during which the hands changed a few times- Davey had put down an ace and Jack had had nothing higher, forcing him to pick up, which was damn fair retribution- but no one had won. It was half-past eleven, Davey noted, and Jack had been at his apartment since five in the afternoon, so he was a bit tired. The images of cards swam before his eyes.

“Would you have liked it better if I hadn’t kissed you?” Davey asked. It was a bit too forward for him and, if later asked, he’d blame the late hour and the endurance of a usually short game.

“Fuck no,” Jack answered, without a hint of hesitation. “Sorry, fuck, should’ve made that clear. I’m real happy you did. It ain’t what the guys there do, usually, but I ain’t never seen one of them on more than a single night. We lasted and, I dunno about you, but I’m damn glad we did.”

Davey took his pile of cards in one hand and reached out the other to Jack. He laced their fingers together. “I’m glad, too.”

“Really, Dave.” Jack placed his cards on the floor, face down, and moved around to sit at Davey’s side. Davey turned his cards upside down- they were done with the game, now, Davey supposed, but just in case- and leaned into the hand Jack placed on the back of his neck. “We’ve got such a good thing here. I like this. I like kissing you. I like- I’ve said it a million times- I like _you,_ Davey. I like you so fucking much.”

Davey knew he must be blushing furiously, by then, and Jack was looking at him, so purposeful, so insistent, face dusted in pink the same way it often was with dirt and Davey _loved_ him. The words ached to be said, and he almost indulged them.

But he wasn’t in love with Jack. He wouldn’t even know how to be, nor would he know what it felt like. And what good would loving him do, anyway? They couldn’t get married, they couldn’t even last. Jack liked girls; he’d marry one someday. Davey probably would, too, even if he couldn’t love her that way. Men like him did that. One of the men Davey had left the bar with way back, months and months ago, had a wife. Davey wouldn’t marry a girl and go behind her back like that- it was deplorable; Davey had left the man as soon as he’d found out- but, a point, it happened.

Jack had said he liked what their relationship was. He’d made it clear. And any change- any _love_ \- would disrupt that relationship. Ruin it. Ruin.

Jack squeezed his hand and, only then, did Davey realize he was expecting a response. “You’re a sap,” he decided, not surprised when his voice came out a bit hoarser than it had last time he’d spoken.

“Oh, fuck you, Dave,” Jack said as he lightly shoved Davey’s shoulder away with the hand that had rested on the back of Davey’s neck. The small, close-lipped smile from before was replaced with a grin, wide with laughter, and it only made him more beautiful. “I was trying to have a moment!”

“Like I said, sappy.”

“I ain’t.” Jack pouted. “I got a reputation, ya know. As not a sappy guy.” Davey could guess, sure, but he couldn’t say he ‘knew’. In order to be aware of a reputation, he would have to know anyone who knew Jack- besides Davey’s family. And, despite the fact that Davey had heard a million stories about them, Jack still hadn’t introduced Davey to his friends.

“Why haven’t you let me meet your friends?” The words come out in a rush, entirely off topic and tinged with desperation. Anyone else, Davey would have never asked. But he trusted Jack. He trusted that the answer made sense, he trusted that he could say such things without fear of mocking or contempt.

It had been six months. Barely any time at all. But nothing about what he felt for Jack seemed any less real.

Jack shrugged, an easy smile making its way onto his face- the one that was too ambiguous, that Davey had never been able to read. “I ain’t stopping you.”

“I couldn’t exactly find them myself.” Davey returned Jack’s smile for one moment before letting it fall. “I mean- you’re not… You’re not embarrassed of me, right? Because I don’t understand-”

“No, no, hell no- Davey-” Jack spoke over him until Davey stopped talking. “No. I ain’t- I’m not embarrassed of you. If anything, should be the other way around. I’d love to have you meet the guys, cause I’m sure you’d love them, and I wanna have all my friends together…”

As Jack trailed off, Davey prompted: “But?”

“The problem ain’t that I’m trying to keep you from them. I talk about you constantly, it gets on the guys’ nerves, I do it so much. But- it’s- I might have told them _too much_ about you.”

“Which means?”

“Look, Crutchie’s like, my brother, so ‘course I tell him everything. Including when I meet people at a bar.” Jack glanced at Davey, who was all wide eyes and pale face, and looked away, a bit sheepish. “Then, when I kept seeing you, I kept telling him-”

“Just him?” Davey interrupted, trying to ignore his stomach tying in a knot and the headache that Jack’s words had brought. Fuck. People knew. _Fuck_.

“Huh?”

“Did you just tell Crutchie, or anyone else?”

Jack was decidedly not looking at him now. “Maybe- maybe mentioned it to one or two other people.”

“Jack-”

“But that was way back, Dave! Way before we was anything more than people who met at a bar from time to time. I didn’t- I didn’t think we’d get to a point where you’d actually want to meet these people.”

Davey didn’t know how to be mad at Jack. The closest he’d ever come was when Jack was flirting with Sarah, but even that had been more jealousy than anger. How could he even be angry with someone he cared so much about? Sure, he’d been mad at his parents and siblings more times than he could count on both hands, but never like this. Never to the point where his stomach turned and his fists clenched and his throat was too dry to yell the words he ached to.

Jack’s fingertips traced the side of Davey’s face, down his neck, before coming to a stop on his shoulder. “Davey, they ain’t gonna tell nobody. I swear. I only told my friends who also fool around with guys, some sorta mutual assurance thing. They ain’t gonna tell cause I could rat on them in return. Don’t even think I told most of them your name.”

“Shit,” Davey murmured, and his chest was so tight and he might be panicking, just a bit. His rational side was repeating Jack’s explanation: it would be _fine_ no one could use this information against him he and Jack were _fine_. 

And hadn’t he himself invited this? Flirting with Jack in front of his family, letting Jack kiss him when he was pretty-sure-but-not-absolutely-sure that they were alone, going to school with dark bruises just barely visible over the collar of his shirt? He’d known what could happen and he’d been proud of himself for not caring. He’d considered himself so _brave_ and _clever_ for tempting fate. He had Jack; he wasn’t afraid. Nothing anyone could say would touch him. For once in his life, he’d felt weightless.

But now, with the reality of it all, he was terrified.

His breath rasped against his throat and he could feel his hands shake and, fuck, was he about to cry? He didn’t want Jack to see him cry. He didn’t want Jack to see this, this breakdown with which would come the realization that Davey was as young and inexperienced and naive and _stupid_ as Jack had thought when they’d first met at that bar.

He’d really thought he and Jack could stay in his own impossible fantasy where two boys could kiss and not worry about the rest of the world looking in. Where he figured out he loved Jack, and Jack loved him too, and they managed to last despite all the obstacles and hate and jealousy in their path. Where love wasn’t just for people who would end up married. That useless, lovely, _impossible_ fantasy where Jack thought of Davey as something more than a quick fuck to brag about with his friends later on.

No, that wasn’t fair; Jack liked him. Jack cared about him. They were more than that.

But not enough. Not enough to keep Jack from risking it all, risking himself and Davey and what they had and what they _could_ have and everything else. 

Davey couldn’t breathe he couldn’t fucking breathe people knew and knowledge was fire it always fucking _spread_ and Jack didn’t even care and Davey couldn’t breathe-

“David!” Jack’s voice was nearly a yell and, as Davey looked into his wide, worried eyes, he got the sense that this wasn’t the first thing Jack had said to him to try to get his attention. His hands were clenched in fists around the fabric on Davey’s shirt. Though, when Davey began to steady his breathing and made eye contact, Jack’s shoulders did slump in relief, his hands stayed firm on Davey’s biceps. “Fuck, Davey, you alright? You had me worried there.”

“I’m-” He wasn’t fine, and Jack always called him out when he bullshitted that. “I’m doing better than I was a minute ago.”

Jack smiled, just a quirk of a tight-lipped mouth, and nodded slowly. “Good.” He reached a hand up to Davey’s face and traced his thumb over Davey’s cheekbone, wiping away tears in confirmation that, yes, Davey had been crying. But Jack was still here, because he cared about Davey. Whatever else, Davey had to have faith in that.

“You breathing okay now?” Jack asked and Davey hesitantly nodded. “Good, cause it was real bad. You wasn’t responding to me at all. You was… breathing real fast, and- sorta chaotically, I guess, rapid-”

“Hyperventilating,” Davey supplied. It was a word he’d learned the third time something like this had happened. “It’s okay. It’s happened before.” Usually, he managed it alone or, if he was lucky, Sarah would help him out of it, and then hug him and make him tea and they’d talk in quiet, hushed tones as if, if they too loud, the panic would return.

“Gotta call bullshit on that, the being okay part, cause kids at the Lodging House get like that sometimes and they always says they’s fine but I know-”

“I don’t like that you told your friends,” Davey interrupted. 

Davey hadn’t meant his words to be accusatory. Once he could get enough oxygen to his brain think rationally, he did understand why Jack had told when he did and that he’d done it with no intention to hurt Davey. Nonetheless, Jack’s eyebrows still knit together as he spoke. “I’m sorry, Dave-”

“No, don’t.” He hadn’t wanted to make Jack feel worse than he already did. “Don’t apologize. It’s not- you said you only told them about me in the beginning, right?”

“Well, I ain’t gonna lie, I still tell Crutchie about you. Cause he’s- he’s my brother, no way else to put it, and I trust him more than I trust myself. But to the others? haven’t said a word since the first week. Don’t even think I said your name then. And I only started bringing in you up in conversation- as my friend, ‘s all- in the past month or so. Look, my friends are great, but they got maybe half a brain between ‘em. I bet they don’t even associate you with the guy I told them about back then.”

Davey nodded, slowly. His heart rate was almost back to normal, but he could still feel it, thudding in his chest, as he tried to cope with having others know. “Then… then you haven’t done anything wrong. I was just- It made me realize how careless I’ve been with this. That we aren’t playing some game, that we could actually be found out and then-”

“And then maybe you stop thinking so much about everything. You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“Thinking is a good thing, Jack.”

“Not saying it ain’t. It’s something I love about you,”- and, for a moment, Davey’s heart stopped- “how much thought you put into everything. You’re so damn smart, cause you can see all these possible outcomes. But you focus too much on the bad ones! We got something so fucking good here; as long as we don’t, I dunno, start kissing in the middle of Central Park or something dumb like that, we’ll be okay.”

Davey’s fingers dug into the fabric of the rug on which they were sitting, pulling at the short strands until he could feel himself relax a bit. “You- I don’t- I don’t get how you don’t worry about this.”

Jack, who clearly did not understand the right course of action in this situation, just _shrugged_. “I’ve learned there ain’t much point giving a damn about something you can’t do nothing for.” He made it sound like a choice. If Davey could help worrying about things, maybe he would’ve given up on it, too. Davey felt a surge of resentment, before shoving it back down. Jack couldn’t be held accountable for not having to worry any more than Davey could for worrying. “We’s careful as is. Sure, we flirt and tease around your family a bit, but they ain’t gonna call you on it. And I’ve fooled around enough to know where’s safe and out of sight. Beyond that, either we give this up entirely, or we enjoy it while it lasts and know we’re doing the most we can.”

Neither of them spoke for a minute. Davey was processing and picking through those words, trying to fault them, trying to find something to rationalize the panic he’d worked himself into, with little avail. And Jack was just watching him, no smile for once, only barely furrowed eyebrows and slightly parted lips.

“I really…” Jack reached out and took Davey’s hand. “I really don’t wanna give this up.”

“Me neither.” Davey exhaled, slowly, and let the last of the major stress tensing his muscles slip away. Jack was here, holding his hand, and things weren’t perfect, but they were good. Davey was scared and happy and maybe he was in love and maybe he wasn’t but maybe it didn’t matter. Not yet.

Davey took the side of Jack’s face in his hand and kissed him.

“You alright?” Jack spoke into the half inch of space between his lips and Davey’s. “If you’re still worried-”

“I don’t know if I can stop worrying. And I’m still scared. But…” He looped his arms around Jack’s waist and rested his head on Jack’s shoulder. “I think we’re worth it.”

Jack tilted Davey’s chin up to kiss him again. “Yeah, Dave. Me too.” He moved away for a half second to ask, “Like I said, I’ve seen kids… uh, hyperventilating?” Davey nodded. “-like you was, before. I try talking to them, saying their names and that usually works alright but is that what I should do for you? Or is there some better way?”

“The talking is good.” He loved Jack’s voice, so much. “I get caught in my thoughts a lot so it- I might not be hearing you, but it helps. Breathing is an issue so if you could… just try to talk me through breathing that would be… good, yeah.”

Jack nodded. “I’ll remember that, Dave.”

“I hope you won’t need to use it, but, thanks. And for… you were what helped me get back to reality. Thank you.”

Had Davey been gifted with Jack’s skill with art, he would’ve drawn the other boy’s smile a million times. He wasn’t, but he was lucky enough to get to see it day after day, never feeling any less lucky to have it. “It ain’t no problem, Davey. Now, tell me what else you want me do.”

For the hour- or minutes or days or years; Davey lost track of time with Jack- that followed, they laid side by side on the worn down carpet, murmured questions and answers interspersed with long, languid kisses, never pushing past the gentleness of the evening. Jack’s features, beautiful, blurred before Davey as his eyelids drooped. It had to be near one, by then.

“We should go to sleep,” Davey said, pulling away from Jack, only for Jack to chase his lips and kiss him again. “Really.”

“You’re probably right, Dave.” Jack pressed short kisses to Davey’s neck. “Not gonna lie, this wasn’t exactly how I’d imagined this night.”

Davey laughed and stood before offering a hand to help Jack up. “Yeah, me neither.”

Jack laced his fingers through Davey’s. “But this is good- not the panic. The talking.”

_Is it selfish to want this forever?_ Davey wondered, as he guided Jack into bed next to him. It was impossible, he knew, but he could see it, falling asleep next to Jack every night. Not their backs pressed together, like on the nights Jack stayed over while the other Jacobses were there, but face to face in the dim moonlight. He had accepted that he and Jack couldn’t last, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t want. And he _wanted_. He wanted Jack’s nights, his mornings, his smiles, his art, his _forever_. And he wanted to give Jack just as much.

Was that love?

“Goodnight, Jack,” Davey murmured. As his eyelids fluttered closed, he felt a feather-light kiss on his forehead. He smiled against Jack’s shoulder.

“Night, Davey.”

_Yeah. I think it is._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is that more healthy communication?? yes it is.
> 
> (This chapter resonates a lot with the lyric set i took the title from: "Put your lips close to mine, as long as they don't touch. Out-of-focus, eye-to-eye, 'till the gravity's too much." of course, all from Treacherous by taylor swift.)
> 
> Next chapter is Obligatory Jacobs Sibling Bonding Chapter (of course), and then we'll actually get to the plot of Newsies (yeah! that is going to happen! this isn't Full AU!)
> 
> Anyway I love you all so very much, please let me know your thoughts on the Boys and the Story, leave a kudos if you like, and have a wonderful day!!!!


	5. Chapter 5

There was no more steam rising from the mug in Sarah’s hand.

Davey knew how his sister liked her coffee; everyone in the family did, as it was useless to try to serve her any if it wasn’t near-scalding. She never let it cool, and she always managed to drink it all before it got even close to tepid. Half the time, Davey figured she actually hated the drink and would just rather burn her taste buds in pursuit of caffeine.

But she’d been sitting at the table with the once-steaming mug in front of her for the past fifteen minutes, and Davey hadn’t seen her take a single sip. Rather, she was entirely still, aside from her foot incessantly tapping the ground.

It worried him.

Something was wrong, obviously. But the wrongness didn’t lie just in the silence and the untouched coffee and the ceaseless rhythm of shoe on wood. No, it lied in the fact that Davey _didn’t know why_.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d asked Sarah what was wrong; not that he didn’t care, but because he never _had_ to. They confided in each other, always. Sure, they bickered and threw each other under the bus from time to time, as all siblings did, but they didn’t have secrets. They didn’t hide their worries. They talked and communicated and supported.

Though, Davey supposed, he hadn’t been doing much of that lately, either.

“We need to talk,” Sarah said, not lifting her gaze from the table.

Davey took a hesitant step forward, and then another. He took the seat opposite side of the table as his mind raced with ideas and possibilities. Of course, he knew it would be about Jack. She’d been suspicious of them since the first day and Jack had been staying over more and more and she was _so smart_. But maybe she didn’t know everything. Maybe he could salvage this. Maybe-

“Davey, I like girls,” Sarah announced, with simple, clear elocution. She met his gaze with her own, steely and determined, and Davey had never seen anyone be so confident in a statement. She said it so plainly, as if it were easy. As if it weren’t something unexpected and not something that should be hidden away from the light of day. It wasn’t that easy. It couldn’t be. 

“What- what do you mean?” His voice cracked halfway through the words. He steadied his breathing and gave her his full attention, reveling in her calm. No, he was wrong. He had to be. There was no way that both of them were like this. It was so improbable.

“I like girls,” she repeated. The way the nails of one of her hands picked at the cuticles of the other was the only trace of doubt, but even that would have been unnoticeable to anyone outside their family. “I’m attracted to girls. Romantically. Sexually. Exclusively.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. His heart pounded against his chest, out of time. “Oh.”

Sarah cracked a half-smile. There were no wrinkles by her eyes to validate it. “You must have something besides that to say.” 

“I- good?” Shit, no; that wasn’t supposed to be a question. He was supposed to be better at this. He was supposed to know how to talk to _her_ , at least. Sarah and Jack. They were the only people he could talk to; he couldn’t lose that. “I mean- thank you. For telling me.”

Sarah nodded. They were quiet for a few moments, with just Sarah looking at him, expectant, before her shoulders drooped and her eyes cast downwards. “Yeah. I just thought-”

“Me too. About liking-” Davey felt the blush creep up to his ears with just the four words he’d spoken. It immediately dawned on him, that, no, that was the opposite of what he’d meant. God, how was she so much better at this? “No, not that. I. I don’t. Like girls. Like that.”

Sarah looked at him and smiled. He kept his eyes on hers but, within a moment, he could feel her hand cover his. “I’d kinda figured that out, Davey.” It was teasing, but he still winced at the words. Sarah immediately noticed and squeezed his hand. “Only because I was looking. I’ve been waiting this long because I wanted to be sure before I told you.”

“How’re you sure now?”

“I, um, found this.” She brought a folded scrap of paper up from her lap onto the table and flattened it out between them. Davey recognized it easily as a drawing in his own likeness, lying asleep in bed. Nothing too scandalous, just shoulders up, but those were bare except for darker spots indicating bruises trailing up the neck. Below was a quick note in all too familiar handwriting, apologizing for leaving early that morning, and a damning signature, _J. Kelly_.

Davey was quick to steal back the paper and fold it, face red. “I thought that was hidden.”

“Yeah, between pages a _book._ You aren’t the only person in this family who reads.” When he didn’t respond, she continued, “It’s sweet that he draws you.”

“He draws everyone. It’s nothing,” he was quick to clarify. But he could feel the weight of the paper in his lap far heavier than it should be. Sarah hadn’t asked, but he still wanted to clarify, for reasons he couldn’t quite place. “It’s just- when you and Les and our parents were away, he stayed over but then in the morning he had work and-”

“You don’t have to explain, Davey.” She looked down at the mug, then tapped each fingernail on the ceramic once. “I… just wish you’d told me.”

“You didn’t tell me about you.”

Sarah lifted the mug to her mouth and took a sip, before wincing and putting it down. “Cold,” she muttered. She shook her head and stood up. “It isn’t really the same, though. I don’t have anyone. Not the way you have Jack.”

“He isn’t something I _have_. He doesn’t belong to me.”

With her back to him, she merely used one hand to wave off his words. “You know what I meant.” She took a pot hanging on the wall and placed it on the stove. “Those few months when you would sneak out at night, like I wouldn’t notice? You were with him.” It wasn’t a question, so he didn’t respond. “I… I was waiting for you to tell me where you were. With someone, obviously. And I got this hope that the reason you hadn’t was because it was because it was a boy.”

“It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell you.” She didn’t react to his rushed assurance, choosing instead to continue fiddling with the stovetop in an attempt to light it. “I was scared, with him being a boy and that but that wasn’t it. Or, it was at first. But then… 

“It started getting… serious, I guess, after a few months and I didn’t know what to do with it and, lately, I’ve been thinking and I might be- I’m- I think I’m falling in love with him?”

Sarah turned away from the stove and smiled, before that changed to a full laugh as she walked over to him. “I’m so happy for you, Davey.” And just a bit of the worry coiled in his stomach began to unwind. “But why did that make you not want to tell me?”

He opened his mouth, and then closed it. There was so much he wanted to say, but it was all a jumble in his head and he had never known how to turn his thoughts into just the right words. But this was Sarah, his _sister_ , and she would get it. She felt for girls the way he did for boys- for _Jack_. She understood. So he just… spoke.

“Because I don’t know if it’s real. Because I’ve known him for months and I care so much about him that the thought of defining it as something else is so- I don’t know what it would change. How would I even know if it is love? I don’t have any experience. I don’t know _anything_ about it. Do you think that I even could be?” He let himself catch his breath for a moment, collecting his thoughts. Then, far slower quieter than the panicked loudness his previous outpouring had reached: “What if… what if love can only be between men and women.”

Sarah took a seat across from him and covered his white-knuckled, clasped hands with hers. “That’s a lot, Davey.” She smiled at him and the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding rushed out in an exhale. “But I don’t… I have liked girls before. Little bouts of want, things like that, but never anything so strong as what I’d define as love. But I can’t imagine, when I’m attracted to girls, even though society shuts that away, that I couldn’t love them, too. For people like us, it’s all forbidden. Might as well get the best of it.”

Davey bit his lip and ignored the stinging of his eyes. “But how do we _know_?” And he pretended his voice didn’t crack on the last word.

“I guess we don’t.” Her grip on his hands tightened. “But you are so smart, Davey. And you are capable of caring so much about people. If you feel like it’s love-”

“But what if I’m wrong!” He interrupted. He didn’t know what he felt. Maybe it was love but he didn’t _know_ \- “Maybe I’m wrong and nothing we have is even real. What would I do then?”

“You do what you feel is right.” She squeezed his shoulder once more before walking back over to the stove, looking down at the pot of coffee reheating. Which was good. It meant she could pretend not to see when he wiped at his damp eyes. “I don’t know if it helps, but the way you smile when you’re around him… It looks a lot like love.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

“And…” She paused. “For what it’s worth, I’d say he loves you too.”

Davey scoffed and buried his face in his hands. That was something too much for him to think about then. Possibly ever. “Maybe,” he conceded. “But I… you came to me about girls and all we’ve done is talk about me.”

Sarah’s laugh was as warm as the coffee she poured back into the yellow mug, and was broken only by the quick shriek she let out as some of the drink escaped and landed on her skirt. After some mumbled cursing and expressions of thanks that the fabric was brown to begin with, she responded: “It’s alright, Davey. I wanted to get you to talk. And, I promise you, when I fall in love with a girl, you will never hear the end of it.”

“I look forward to it.” The apartment was quiet for a minute, save for the shouts of children on the streets outside and the tapping of Sarah’s fingernails against the mug’s ceramic. “Sarah?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Sarah walked over to where Davey was sitting, wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and rested her chin on his head. “Love you too, Davey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with more Communication - Sibling Edition.
> 
> I usually headcanon Sarah as bi but she's a lesbian in this story. that's how it be sometimes. also FUCK i hate that this is pre strike rn cause i want to write her and kath in love:((  
> (ps she's right - when she falls in love with kath davey /does/ never hear the end of it)
> 
> this is the first time since ive started the fic that i have posted a chapter without the following one being done (sans editing), so, who knows when the next one will be up. hopefully before halloween but we'll see
> 
> as always, thank you all so much for reading, your comments make me so happy, i love you all so very much. Have a great night!!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey warning davey is on the verge of a panic attack in the beginning of this chapter

Davey’s hands were shaking.

Between his fingers was a tie, worn and old, that he had fastened around his neck dozens, if not hundreds, of times. He’d worn it last, god, not much more than a week prior. He knew how to do this. 

But every time he tried picking it up, his hands shook so much that he ended up dropping it back on the vanity.

He was glad, in part, that Les was persistent about not wearing a tie. He couldn’t tie it himself and, with their father’s arm broken, the responsibility would have fallen to Davey. And he couldn’t. He couldn’t. He was half in tears just trying to tie his own damn tie but he _couldn’t_ cause his hands wouldn’t stop _fucking_ shaking.

If he couldn’t do this, how was he actually supposed to work? He didn’t know how to be a newsie; he didn’t know how to lie; he didn’t even know how to sound interesting. He was going to make a fool of himself. He wouldn’t make any money and he’d disappoint his family who could already barely afford to keep the apartment before having to pay for his father’s medical bills-

“Davey?”

He couldn’t even tell a _lie_. Not a good one. He’d embarrass Jack, who’d offered to help him, in front of Jack’s friends, who would then immediately dislike him, of course. He couldn’t even make friends with kids at school, where he was at least competent. What was he supposed to do with Jack’s friends, who would surely wonder why the _hell_ was he trying to be a newsie when he couldn’t even _lie_?

“Dave, hey, I think you’re hyperventilating again? You hearing me?”

Not to mention, the same friends who probably knew, or could figure out, that, oh yeah, Davey was also sleeping with Jack! (Jack had promised they didn’t know. He’d been making an effort to cover his tracks there, Davey knew this.) But what if he was flirty with Davey? What if it was obvious? What if-

“I’m gonna take that as a no.” There were hands on Davey’s face. They were warm. “David,” _Jack._ “you wanna breathe with me?” Jack was there. Jack cared about him. He was going to take care of Davey. “You said do groups of four, yeah? Breathe in; one, two, three, four…” As Jack spoke, one of his hands left Davey’s face and moved to take the tie out of his shaking hands. Davey let him, trying to breathe in steady rhythm with Jack’s words and nearly succeeding. “Hold, one, two, three, four…” Davey’s throat ached to release the air in his lungs and bring in newer, fresher oxygen as if it would alleviate all the stress coiled in his chest, but he didn’t. He’d do about anything Jack told him. “And breathe out, two, three, four.” Jack laced the fingers of his left hand through Davey’s. “Squeeze my hand if you’re hearing me now.” And Davey did.

Davey wanted to thank him that moment, but instead met his eyes and just breathed with him for a minute or so, until he could be sure all his thoughts were in order and his hands were still. “Thanks,” he said, a little hoarsely, and smiled.

Jack squeezed Davey’s hand and returned the smile. “No problem, Dave.” Not allowing his fingers to fall away from Davey’s, he stepped back to lean against the bathroom wall. It was cramped inside, but there was still just room to move. Besides, Davey never minded being close to Jack.

“You really don’t gotta wear a tie, ya know,” Jack told him, idly scratching at the chipped paint of the mirror’s frame with the hand that wasn’t in Davey’s. “Barely any of the guys do. So, it ain’t no issue if you’d rather not.”

Davey thought of his father, the pressed shirts and meticulously placed ties, the determination to dress well even if it wasn’t the job he’d had dreamed of growing it. Davey thought of his own school uniform, the pride he had taken in wearing it when he was young, which had faded fast to taking it all for granted. He regretted that, now. Davey was his father’s son; he was _educated_. He could appreciate what Jack and the newsies did. He would do it himself. But he wouldn’t let his appearance fall apart in the process.

“Thank you, but I’ll wear it.”

Jack shook his head with a small laugh and let go of Davey’s hand. “Yeah, figured. I’d offer to help, but…” Davey had never seen Jack wear a tie; he couldn’t imagine it.

“Yeah.” 

“Yeah.”

Davey picked the tie back up off the counter, managing to lift it to neck without it falling, at least. But Jack was watching, and that layered on a whole different type of anxiousness. Still, he managed to begin the loop, careful to leave plenty of room for the still heavy breaths he was inhaling.

“You’re gonna do alright, ya know that, right?”

Davey exhaled the deep breath, keeping his eyes on the mirror. “Yeah.”

“Don’t sound like it.”

“Jack,” he started. The tie was crooked. He undid it and started over again. “You know I’m not good at this.”

“What? Lying?”

“Part of it.”

“I ain’t gonna bullshit you, Dave.” Jack pushed off the wall, standing straight. “You can’t lie for shit. Clearly you don’t like doing it, either, so that don’t help. You ain’t gonna be fantastic, but you ain’t gotta be. You got a kid brother and kids are a fucking pity goldmine, so you ain’t gotta worry there. And, besides,” he wrapped an arm around Davey’s shoulder and made eye contact in the mirror. “You got the best newsie this city’s ever seen showing you the ropes.”

“But I thought you were the one who was going to be teaching me?”

Jack’s eyebrows furrowed before, a moment later, he groaned and pushed Davey away. “Oh, fuck you! Ya know, now I ain’t gonna show you anything. Partnership over before it started.” He crossed his arms over his chest, practically pouting. Davey wanted to kiss him- nothing new there-, but his brain caught on that one word-

“We’re partners?”

“Well, we ain’t _now_.” Jack glared at Davey for a second more before uncrossing his arms and resting an elbow on the sink. “But, yeah, ‘course. Me and you and Les are all working together, splitting the profits-” Jack looked up at the ceiling with a drawn-out hum. “-70/30.”

“I assume the 70% is for me and my brother, who make up two-thirds of this group?” Davey asked, innocent as he could, watching as Jack’s eyebrows furrowed, locked in a mix of guilt and calculation.

“…60/40”

“The two of us, supporting our recently injured father as well as our mother and sister?” (Sarah and his mama had jobs, and Davey knew Jack knew that, but the point still stood.)

“Fine!” Jack threw his arms up, just narrowly missing hitting Davey in the face. “50/50 split.” Davey grinned. “But! you tell nobody. Anyone asks, I’m screwing the two of you over completely. Gotta reputation to uphold.”

“I promise, Jack. Anyone asks, you’re the worst bastard I’ve ever met.”

“Perfect.” Jack pushed himself up to sit on the sink, completely obscuring the mirror Davey had just finished using to tie his tie. He was also now looming above Davey, which was an odd reversal. “Ya know, Dave,” he continued, taking the end of Davey’s tie in his hand and rubbing the fabric between his fingers. “I like the tie.”

“Yeah?”

Jack twirled the fabric closer to the knot around his finger, leaning in closer the closer he pulled Davey. “Yeah.” 

The kiss that followed was slow and even, as it had to be; Davey’s entire family was just through the locked door. But they’d gotten good at quiet in the near four months since they’d began spending more and more time in the apartment. Without making a sound, Jack wrapped his legs around Davey’s waist. Davey knotted Jack’s hair around his fingers and tugged, soliciting nothing more than a quick inhale from Jack. It could only be heard in the space between them, but it was still beautiful.

Jack moved so he could press short, closed-mouth kisses to Davey’s neck. Then, stopping, he lingered with his lips a breath from the pale skin. “If ya wanted, I could,” he offered in a whisper. “Mark you up a bit. Be a hell of a first impression.”

Davey honestly considered it. It was tempting; even the idea of it gave him that same rush of rebellion that accompanied any risk he took with the beautiful boy in front of him. But at the same time, the fear he’d realized when talking about Jack’s friends, the panic accompanying-

“Eh, probably shouldn’t risk it,” Jack said, as if he’d read Davey’s thoughts. Jack pressed one more quick kiss to his neck before moving to look Davey in his eyes. “My friends can be idiots, but they ain’t that stupid. But after your whole new thing has calmed down, I’m gonna get you to do it for me. You ain’t sent me to work all fucked up in a while.”

“Yeah.” That day that Jack had stayed over, almost a month ago now, was still clear to Davey. It had set everything in a new light, which made anything look like a possible hint that, if noticed, could unravel everything he and Jack had built. So, he stopped being obvious. He only left bruises on skin that would be covered by day-to-day wear and hinted at Jack to do the same to him. He kept quiet, both in appearance and volume. Sarah had figured it out, but no one else would. Davey would make sure of that.

“I like when they ask me about it, ya know. It feels like a secret I’m hiding. And I don’t give anything away. I just tell them it was someone at a bar, and they believe it, course.”

In barely a whisper, with one hand trailing over the front of Jack’s chest and the other steadying himself on the sink, Davey asked, “Is it ever true?”

“Why, you jealous?”

“Do I need to be?”

Jack rolled his eyes and kissed Davey again. “Nobody, Jacobs. There ain’t been nobody but you in quite a while.” Then, after a pause Davey could now read as worry, “What about you?”

“Jealous?”

“Fuck off.”

“I-” _I love you._ The words caught in his throat. It was for the best, though; there were better places and times for that than a cramped bathroom in the early morning. But there was always a lesser truth. “I haven’t even been back to the bar since we stopped going.”

“And there ain’t no pretty schoolboy you’re leaving behind?” Jack joked, but the way his eyes fixed on the wall between Davey and the laugh, aborted halfway through, added genuine worry to the statement.

Davey moved both of his hands to cup Jack’s face. “I’ve never liked anyone in that school half as much as I like you.” Davey kissed him, if only to distract from the blush spreading across his face. “Only you.” He whispered, an addition he made so quiet that even Jack couldn’t hear.

“Davey!”

Davey jerked away from Jack the instant he heard his brother call him and knock on the locked door. It was so easy to get lost in _them_ that snapping back to reality was always a shock. 

“Mama says we have to go!” Les called. Davey scrunched his eyes closed as his brother continued pounding on the door. “What are you and Jack _doing_ in there?”

From behind closed eyes, Davey heard Jack burst out in a laugh. Davey made eye contact with Jack, intending to glare at him, but he didn’t last three seconds before joining him in laughter.

“Nothin’, Les,” Jack called out, the lie passing easily through his lips as if his left hand wasn’t still lingering in Davey’s back pocket. “I’ll have your brother out in a minute.”

“Hurry up!” Les urged, before walking away, his shoes falling heavy on the wood floor.

“He’s probably right,” Jack conceded. “Gotta get an early start, ‘specially on your first day. But…” His right hand returned to the tie around Davey’s neck, pulling it closer like he had before, before murmuring, “The city’s got plenty of back alleys and I know every one. If you think you’ll need a break sometime during the day…” 

It sounded good - great, really - and if the idea of sending Jack to work with a bruised neck and undone clothes was tempting, the prospect of doing those things to him in the middle of the day was almost irresistible. And yet- “We can’t leave Les alone.”

“That kid’s a force of nature. I’d be more worried about the city than him, if he got out on his own.” Jack pushed himself off the counter, landing deftly on his feet, before leaning back up to give Davey a last, quick kiss. “But don’t worry. One of us will always have an eye on him.”

“Good.”

Jack looked at Davey and frowned. “Shit.”

“What?”

“I might’ve messed up your tie a bit.”

Davey was still facing the mirror, so he just had to step in front of Jack to see it. He was right; all the holding and pulling and rubbing had left the fabric of the tie looking wrinkled and day-worn, even though the sun was still barely risen. _Dammit._

“I’m sorry, Davey,” Jack apologized. “Didn’t think about it. We have time to-”

“No,” Davey interrupted, still meeting his own eyes in the mirror without straying to Jack’s. “No, it’s fine.” 

Ignoring the way his fingers shook - just the barest imitation of the way they had when Jack had found him that morning; it was nowhere near that bad - he undid the knot he’d spent so long trying to tie, and let the tie fall back down onto the ceramic. Only then did he turn to Jack, who was waiting, eyebrows-furrowed, for an explanation. In lieu of one, Davey took his hand and didn’t glance back at the tie as he walked towards the door.

“I don’t need it,” he said.

_Because I have you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey?? is that?? something that isn't wildly before the plot of newsies????? okay yeah no strike yet but. we're Getting There
> 
> so this is actually gonna be one chapter longer than I'd planned. I'd wanted to have all the first day scenes in one chapter but all of that is right now almost 6,000 words and still incomplete so i thought i'd split it between this section and another chapter. so yeah this one is kinda short but i didn't want it to be super super long. so we're still three chapters from completion but i know where i want to go from here on out.
> 
> so yeah!! that's this chapter! thank you all so much for all your comments on the last chapter, they're really like gifts to me. Please let me know your thoughts on this, and have a great weekend!!


	7. Chapter 7

They’d been walking for the past ten minutes and Les had _not stopped asking questions_.

But Jack was a miracle with children, it seemed, cause he never failed to answer one. Half the time, it was Les pointing to a random kid in a newsboy cap and asking Jack who it was, as if Les would actually remember all of those names. When Davey pointed that out, Jack had assured that he didn’t mind, and Les had let out a huff of indignance. It was the former that kept Davey from making other such observations.

“Who’s he?”

Les was pointing to another newsie, this one leaning against a wall and talking to a very uninterested-looking young woman dressed in bright colors indicative of a class far above either Davey’s or the newsies.

Jack laughed. “Oh, he’s Romeo. Damn, that poor gal.” He stopped walking forward, then held up one finger to Davey and Les, before winking and darting away in the direction of the conversation.

Maybe it was childish, but Davey really didn’t want to be left alone on his first day. He followed after Jack, at a slower pace, and made sure Les was with him. 

As he advanced, he saw Jack take Romeo’s position against the wall and begin speaking to the girl with the same easy, lopsided grin he’d used when first flirting with Davey. It didn’t make Davey jealous. It _didn’t_. Davey knew Jack was flirty and he knew it didn’t mean Jack cared any less about him and, besides, just because he and Davey cared about each other didn’t mean Jack was _his_ , so he had no reason to be jealous. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a wave a relief when she showed no more interest in Jack than she had in the former newsie.

“- have a headline for you,” the young woman said, once Davey was finally within earshot. “‘Cheeky Boy gets Nothing for his Troubles’.” She shot Jack one sarcasm-laced grin before walking off with the equally rich-looking man standing beside her, as a chorus of ‘Oh’s rose out in the nearby newsies. Davey couldn’t help but laugh along with them. He himself would never turn Jack down- with those eyes, he wondered how anyone could- but it was funny to see his shot down so entirely.

Davey put a hand on Jack’s shoulder from behind him, before quickly removing it as Jack turned. He figured less physical contact with Jack was best, especially at the beginning. “Good job with that one.”

“Oh, shaddup.” He shoved Davey away, lightly. “I thought I’d said stay over there.”

“You said nothing, actually-”

“Jack,” said one of the newsies, who had crowded around to watch Jack get rejected. He was a lanky young man, tapping a lit cigar against his leg. He looked familiar; he’d definitely been in some of Jack’s drawings, and Davey remembered he’d been one of the ones with a weird nickname, but he couldn’t quite remember what. “Who’s this kid?”

Jack threw an arm around Davey’s shoulder and the latter immediately stiffened. _So much for limited physical contact._ He was about to shuffle away when he noticed that, among the newsies, there were at least three pairs with one’s arms around the other, or one leaning on the other, or else standing so close that it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. _Maybe this is just how it is, here._

“This is my pal, Davey, and his brother Les. They’s gonna be working with me.”

One of the other kids spoke up, “Oh, _this_ is Davey.”

The newsie with the cigar then looked at Davey, who was trying to figure out what the last comment had meant. “You know Jack don’t never shut up about you, right?”

“Hey, Race?” That’s the nickname. “Shut the fuck up.” Davey nudged Jack and gestured at Les, who did not need to be hearing those curses, thank you. “....Heck. Shut the heck up,” Jack tried, before lowering his voice, “Sorry, Dave.”

“Just saying Jack,” Race said, raising his hands in a mock-surrender, “this kid better be something special for all you go on about him.” Davey really didn’t want any sort of expectation on him, so that didn’t make him feel great. But Race’s jibes were aimed at Jack, not him. Davey was included in the teasing, but it wasn't as a way to hurt him, Davey thought. Maybe that was how these friendships worked.

Jack tightened his grip on Davey’s shoulder just a bit. “And how special is Spot Conlon, that you ain’t able to go half a poker game without yammering on about him?” Davey had no clue who this Spot might be- if Jack had mentioned him, Davey had long forgotten- but the renewed chorus of jeers from the newsies, who all seemed to be enjoying the competitive nature of this conversation, promised some truth in what Jack was saying. Davey couldn’t help smile along with them.

“Race, whatever you was about to say, don’t. I don’t wanna see you scaring off the new kids.” The voice came from behind Davey, but its owner wasted no time in walking to stand in front of them. He had sandy-brown hair and a friendly grin and leaned heavily on a crutch, though, from all the drawings Davey had seen and stories he’d heard of him, he would’ve remembered the name without it. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Dave. I’m Crutchie.”

It was something strange, to be face-to-face with the person who knew Davey’s secret and had no real reason- aside from his friendship with Jack- to keep it. Davey thought he should feel intimidated or cold towards him but - and maybe this was just all the stories Davey had heard and the brightness of Crutchie’s smile - he just really wanted to be this boy’s friend. Anyone who meant that much to Jack, Davey wanted to know.

“Nice to meet you, Crutchie. I’ve heard a lot about you, too.”

“Hey!” Davey looked down to see Les had stepped between him and Crutchie. “You heard anything about me?”

Crutchie’s grin softened then as he leaned down a bit to look at Les. “‘Course I have, Les Jacobs. Jack’s real excited to work with you.”

Les seemed content enough with that answer, cause he just nodded and said: “Good,” before going back to stand next to Davey.

“The three of ya are going to be a great team,” Crutchie assured. And that’s exactly what it was- assurance. Davey knew he had a tendency to project a bit, but it really seemed like the kind words and the smiles aimed and him and Jack seemed to hold an underlying reminder that, yes, Crutchie knew, but that the secret was beyond safe with him. 

“Thank you, Crutchie,” Jack said. “Now, if the rest of ya are done gawking at me and my selling partners, we got some papes to sell.” Jack finished the statement by turning himself - and, by extension, Davey - away from the crowd and towards a set of gates in the distance. When he leaned closer, so that his breath was on Davey’s ear, and whispered: “What’d ya think?”, Davey just leaned back into him.

“They’re great, Jack,” he responded, and found he meant it.

* * *

Davey had thought, every so often, of what visiting Medda’s theatre would be like.

He’d heard about it, and the woman herself, in a million and one of Jack’s stories. Such stories always ended with Jack promising to take him there one day, and Davey trusted him enough to believe in that, but he wouldn’t have imagined it a result of being chased through the streets of New York by some man who seemed to have it in for Jack. 

Jack never talked much about the Refuge. In fact, Davey only learned its name in the midst of the terribly incomplete explanation he’d given once inside the theatre. Davey had known it existed, and Jack had spent time there, but he’d never questioned further. However, the close encounter made him more curious. And more worried. But he knew Jack was able to deal with this and, if he wasn’t, he would ask for Davey’s help. After all, as Medda had said, the theatre was a place to escape one’s worries.

If only one of Davey’s worries wasn’t inside the theatre, in the form of a beautiful girl in a private box, at whom Jack looked like she was the theatre’s main attraction. 

Davey prided himself of knowing a good number of things. School things, mostly, but he was at a point where he figured he knew a good deal about Jack, too. For example, Davey knew that there was really nothing here to worry about. He wasn’t so foolish or insecure to think that Jack was trying to sleep with any given person he talked to. Nor did he forget that Jack had, just that morning, made it clear that Davey was the only person Jack had had in that way in a long while. And that was enough for Davey. It wasn’t like they were married, or even a long-term relationship. Or, necessarily, a relationship at all. Just because Davey loved Jack didn’t mean that sentiment was returned and, if it wasn’t, it wasn’t like it _mattered_. Davey knew things, and he knew that love wasn’t required in what they were doing. He knew that Jack could flirt with whomever he wanted. He knew he had _no right_ to be jealous.

But couldn’t help the tightness in his chest as he watched the easy grin play over Jack’s face as he began- Davey could only assume- sketching the way the girl looked under the lights of the theatre.

“Davey, you ain’t even looking!” Les whisper-yelled, not taking his eyes off the Bowery girls long enough to tug on Davey’s sleeve. It brought him right out of his thoughts and, honestly, Davey could’ve thanked him for that. He was getting caught in a downward spiral that just made him upset for no reason and for no gain. It was better for him to tear his eyes away from the scene above him-

-not that the sight below made him feel any better. “Yeah, and you shouldn’t be looking, either. Mama would have our heads if she knew we were here.” Davey knew the girls were beautiful and he liked their singing, but even if he had been attracted to any of them, the show still would have made him uncomfortable. It brought back memories of stories his classmates would tell about sneaking out to the Vaudeville at night. He remembered their depictions of women’s legs, hips, breasts. He remembered their sly smiles and murmured innuendo of what exactly they’d like to do with those girls. It had unnerved Davey then and now, the dark imaginings centered around girls those boys had never known, who had never shown them an ounce of interest.

Which only meant he couldn’t look anywhere in his theatre without feeling sick.

“They said I could look! And so did Jack!” Les protested.

Davey had no desire to argue with Les- who, for some reason, had an incredible knack for winning- as he’d far rather keep staring at that private box with unearned discontentment heavy in his stomach. “We’ll stay until Jack gets here. Only that long.”

As if Davey’s words had summoned him, Jack turned away from the girl and started scaling down the ladder to the ground. Skipping the last four or so rungs by simultaneously jumping down and turning away from the box, Jack grinned at them and began walking over.

“How’s the show?” Jack asked, as if Davey would have had any interest in the girls.

“They’re real pretty,” Les answered.

Jack glanced over at the girls. “Yeah they are, real pretty. Not the prettiest I’ve seen, though,” he said, with a wink at Davey that nearly melted the worries from before.

“I was telling Les, we should go once you got back,” Davey started, ignoring the annoyed whine from Les. “You don’t think- that man isn’t still waiting for you, right?”

“Never know ‘till you step outside. But-” 

“Jack, can we stay a little longer?” Les interrupted, wearing that same wide-eyed look Jack had just taught him to use on customers. “Mama said we gotta help with dishes when we get home and Davey never does any of it-”

“Les!”

“-and I’ve been working all day and I think I need a break,” Les finished, full-fledged pout making him look far closer to the age he pretended to be for customers than ten years old.

Jack looked at Les, then at Davey, then back at Les. “Well, I mean-” Davey shot him a glare and Jack returned with an apologetic smile. “The kid’s having fun!” Les perked up at that. “Look, it’s Davey’s decision, not mine, cause I ain’t your brother, but- Les, are you respecting these ladies?”

Les nodded, slowly at first, like he wasn’t sure if this was a test.

“Good. They work harder than we do and still get a bunch of crap from their customers. Be one of the good ones.” Jack ruffled Les’s hair. Les stepped away from him, closer to the stage, before Davey put a hand on his shoulder to keep him from moving too far. “See, Dave? There ain’t no harm. ‘Sides, I wanna talk to you, back by the sets.” And with the way Jack flashed him a grin- small and sly- with the last sentence, how on earth was Davey supposed to refuse?

“Fine,” Davey relented, feeling like he’d definitely lost a battle when Les’s pout fell away to reveal an absolutely smug smile. “Five more minutes. Just while Jack and I… talk.”

Les had already turned away from them by the time Davey had finished speaking. Barely managing to keep himself from rolling his eyes, Davey looked over at Jack, who was watching Les with the same look of fondness and amusement with which he watched some of the younger newsies. Davey couldn’t help but feel some of the annoyance wash away as he looked at Jack. Davey really… Davey really loved him.

And then Jack was turning back to look him in the eyes and grinning like he knew exactly what Davey was thinking, before pulling him further into the backrooms of the theatre.

“Who’s that girl in the private box?” Davey whispered as Jack stopped in the space between the wall and the back of one of the sets he’d painted. His lips were already on Davey’s neck, so Davey could feel Jack’s laugh buzz against his skin. 

“You know, Jacobs,” Jack murmured as he moved to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I didn’t actually take you back here to talk to ya.”

“How could I have guessed,” Davey deadpanned, as he placed a hand against Jack’s face and gently moved him away. “Really, though, I’m curious.”

“You gotta funny way of pronouncing ‘jealous’.” Davey rolled his eyes as Jack leaned back into him with a smile. “Seriously, we was just talking.”

“I never said you were doing more than that.”

“She’s a reporter. She must really like it, cause- you saw her outfit- she can’t need whatever she’s getting paid.” Jack frowned, then. “I didn’t actually catch her name. I gave her mine, though, which does seem a tad unfair. Now-” He splayed his hands over Davey’s chest. “You gonna let me kiss you or not?”

“I like making you work for it,” he teased, but that didn’t stop him from leaning in anyway. It was torture, spending the long day with Jack constantly in his line of sight but not being able to touch him, aside from one-armed hugs and quick squeezes of the arm or shoulder. And maybe that was it- maybe the separation was what made him so nervous and willing to believe Jack was already infatuated with a girl he’d just met. He’d been acting ridiculous.

But still, even with his hands on Jack’s waist and his lips on Jack’s, the worry didn’t quite let go.

* * *

“You did real good today,” Jack murmured against Davey’s skin. They were tangled up in each other, sinking into the god-knows-how-old mattress in the supposedly-haunted apartment two floors below Davey’s. Once they’d realized it was likely the only place they would be unlikely to be disturbed, and once they’d found out Sarah was actually very skilled at picking window locks (she said not to ask, and Davey respected that), it had become a place they could just relax, despite the darkness and dust and occasional rat. Walls were thin, and they didn’t want to contribute anything the haunted rumor- or start a worse one- so they still had to keep quiet. But it was definitely better than the nothing they’d had before.

“Really?”

“Really.” Davey felt Jack trace his hand down Davey’s arm until he found Davey’s and laced their fingers together. “You gotta lot to learn, sure. But you… Look, Davey. I know this ain’t what you like. You got… I don’t know. Plans. A future. Something.”

“Jack-”

“Nah, David, let me finish.” He rolled over onto his back, and the mattress dipped with him. “Your life’s in that classroom, learning things, making something of yourself. It ain’t fair that your dad broke his arm, that you got uprooted and stuck doing this job that you never wanted. Not like being a newsie was my childhood dream, either-” He chuckled, but it just sounded sad. Davey held on tighter to his hand. “- but it’s been years now since I’ve even been in a schoolhouse. It wasn’t like it was really an option for me, anything but this. But you… you got so far with it all, and you’re so fucking smart and honestly, I got no idea what you’re doing hanging around somebody like me, when you got so much ahead of you. And it just… I don’t want you to lose all that, and get stuck in this life, too.”

It was seldom Davey saw Jack as open as he was in that moment, sprawled out on the mattress with the moonlight dancing over his features as he turned his face towards the window. It was enough to leave him at a loss for words. So, he brought his hand up to Jack’s face and tilted it back to look at him, before pulling him into a tight hug against Davey’s chest and allowing him to bury his face into Davey’s shoulder.

“Not like I don’t like what I got,” Jack continued, slightly muffled. “Cause else I’d never know Crutchie or any of them and they- they’s my family, ya know? And I got it better than plenty of the guys, I know that, but god. Sometimes I just want to pick it up and leave. Go to fucking Santa Fe. Somewhere that ain’t this city.”

“I’d miss you,” Davey said, a sentiment he’d never before expressed when Jack talked about leaving. It always felt too invasive, too much like he was shutting him down. But now it felt like it was needed.

Jack laughed but, again, humorless. “Sure, you say that. But it ain’t like you’s gonna stick around. And you shouldn’t have to. You’re meant to go to some fancy college far outta this town, learn everything else you ain’t already got in that mind of yours.”

The air in the room was as tense as it was silent, for a moment, as Davey wondered what he was supposed to say to _that_. He’d never been good at this. 

“What about your art?” he tried, after several more painfully long moments of silence.

“What about it?”

“Isn’t that…” Why wasn’t he better at this? He had a million words and ideas of what to say. He knew he wanted to help. Everything was clear in his head, but when he tried to stitch the phrase together, he just… couldn’t make it work. “You could do art for a living.”

“Yeah,” Jack snorted. “Do caricatures of tourists in Central Park for a nickel and eat worse than I do now, sounds great.”

“Jack, you are… you’re so talented. You could go to museums with your skill.”

“Sure.” And Davey wanted to say more, convince him of all the wonderful things Davey saw in him, the things he’d always thought Jack could see just as well, because it was always Davey falling apart, not him. But Jack was the one who could spin flat headlines into marvelous stories; all Davey knew how to do was report the truth as it stood, no embellishments, no eloquence. And his chance was lost before he even tried to take it as Jack continued on. “Sure, yeah. Whatever. That ain’t- Jesus, I didn’t wanna go and make this about me. That ain’t what I’m trying to do.”

“It’s fine, Jack.”

Jack sighed, a long, ragged breath against Davey’s shoulder. “I just… I just wanted to say I’m proud of ya. Going from that kinda life to this. Meeting all these people you was wary of. All of it. You’re so good, Dave.” With that, Jack moved to look Davey in the eye and, even though his face was cast in shadow, Davey could see the fondness in his gaze. He held onto him tighter.

“So are you,” Davey promised, trying to not stumble over his words. “You are- I- I’m… I’m proud of you too.”

“Yeah, come in with the flattery once I’ve already gone and tripped all over myself.” He laughed, still dry, but a little less hopeless now.

“No, Jack, I mean it. I…” His breaths were long and loud in the stillness between them. “I don’t know how I got lucky enough to have you.” No sooner had the words fallen from his mouth that he remembered the way Jack talked to the girl in the private box, the ease with which he flirted, the impermanence their relationship intrinsically held, despite Davey wanting, _longing_ for it to last. How presumptuous was it, to imply that Jack was his. Sure, Jack was only seeing Davey lately, but that didn’t mean he’d never want anyone else. Davey didn’t have a monopoly on Jack’s heart, he knew that. “To have you. As a friend.” If Davey didn’t want to look for a reaction, the darkness did most of the work for him. “I’ve never known anyone outside my family who would talk to me the way you just did.”

“Hopefully that’s a good thing,” he joked, but Davey could hear an amused lilt slowly warming his tone again.

“It’s amazing. You, Jack Kelly, are amazing.”

Jack brought a hand up to tangle in Davey’s hair. “I should whine to you more often, I like when you’re all sentimental.”

Davey wanted, again, to whisper those three words in the dark safety of the room, after the long day and the heavy conversation. But he couldn’t. He would, one day, he promised himself. But not now, when he was so unsure and so unwilling this relationship. So, instead, he just leaned in closer to Jack and let himself pretend that there was a life for him like this, nights wrapped up in Jack’s arms and his words, just them drifting away in the quiet darkness, no worries about money or futures or the perseverance of a doomed relationship.

It’d been a long day, and he didn’t think his parents would notice if he didn’t make it home until morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really thought it wasn't going to take me another month to update. I also thought I might have this done by Christmas.
> 
> Those dreams are dead.
> 
> On the upside, I'm essentially done with college applications so, hopefully, I'll have more time to write!! We will see.
> 
> Also, I recognize that I imply in an earlier chapter that Davey and Jack have been to Medda's together before. I forgot about that until after I'd written this, and I decided that solid consistency isn't really my priority here. I may go back and change that offhand line from that old chapter. we'll see.
> 
> Only other note on this chapter: Davey's inability to comfort people in situations like that is entirely rooted in my inability to give comfort. words are hard, ya know? also, that scene was never really supposed to exist it just... happened. as it be with writing sometimes.
> 
> anyway, I hope y'all enjoyed. I have no idea when the next chapter will be out cause its not yet finished, but that will be the chapter where they actually Do Strike, and then we'll be almost done. Thank you, everyone who read this, I love you so very much, and please leave me a comment if you have anything to say about what I'm doing here! Goodnight!!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey anyone remember when i actually was into newsies and wrote mediocre fic for it? well hey I'm back
> 
> btw it has been going on eight months, maybe more, since i've watched the source material so this is likely to be super out of character... if anything is too glaring please point it out to me. Character aside I do like to think my writing has improved somewhat so at least this has that going for it.
> 
> Big thanks to actingitout for beta-ing this chapter!!! even though I'm the worst and don't know how to respond to people in a timely manner
> 
> also the title is from Treacherous by taylor swift and look red is a damn good album and this song works weirdly well with this fic, a fact I didn't realize until I'd written about 10k words of it
> 
> that's it for this long ass note. If you're reading this, I love you. If you kudos, I love you AND adore you. If you leave a comment I will die for you


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